« » 











: 

o c»^ “.X j 

rO^ c” >f^. O V -i <p --^ 

; •'o ■' ^ 0^ 


^ 0 , X ^\(y 




o /k ^ 0 - 

^•‘• 0 , -% •' . s'” ' 




J ^ o . 

® ^ . 
sy 

<ru ^ 

O » H 1 

V v * 0 , * 

o .G' c 

</' S 

= : Mi^ - -n- 

■«* 



A'^^% 


\ f\.’ 


^ ✓ 



<»• 

® 

8 1 A - ^ S ’ ^ ^ 3 K 0 ■ , 


0 « X 


' ■=*’ <.^ ' 

V"'.*'' \' 



^ o'^ 








<0^ ^ / s'* 

, 0 N t , ' 5 ';- ^ 



O 

AJ ^ s 
•\ 

^/> ^ 8 
^ C‘ 

1 A>^ 

< 

^ •»<> 
y ' 


/71 0 <p 



<0' 


c°'’ '“'GL*-' 



< 1*3 

,v y. 

"“""y ^ 

■»- V^ 

o V » ^ ^0 


^ ^ <0^ ^ 
,0^ c 0 -p 
0 ^ 




\ 

I?' '^ , 



0 N C 

<“ , 0 . 




y 

ys 


.1 /O 




® .'I 

j, ^yiA/ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^P 

* > ' ^ * O r ^-. •S N 0 \V ^ 

'f > V 1 J. ^ * 0 

■^TiSMiSn^ <, ^ (A^$Pai ^ ^ 

(h\\ MiV / / lO 
49 

• <f^ 

- a^ ^ - 

V I B "O 0 „ y.'^ ^ ^ 








\0 ^ 

\ ^ ^ 
y' 

'■'^^ cO ci' ^ 

- V«S 

* <i 

^ V 

A o V 

= 0*1 ' 

V^ «'• 

<> o.* Ci_ t- 

•OnO^ N'^ v*n ^ ^®' 




“ ' » ■ "^O, * A‘i'‘ . ' " * * "o 

''■ J^/ITaPs^ ^ 

V >>° -^ci- - 

V ^ y» 

v* r\ 

^ rv’ 


r <3*^ 






«'0'A\llNk ^ A’ 

^•' •^o'* '"o > . 

, .' ^o’ %. % ^,* <,,^'^ ^6^ ^ Tfl, .' ,o5 • - 

<^ o ■=t J<\ A ^’rv c.^ ^ 



0 N C 





.s </^ 

,> ^ c^' V 

V V' 

•9 










<A' 

o c 

21 -, 


^ ^O-’ '' 

Q^ s'* ’ ^ 

A'' V 






y '*>>J-’ « o 

0 M 0 " y 

f, P v' ' 



Q-. ^ 

Y * 0 . ,. 8 I A 

<. c- 



<& -5 


,A 


O 
«a 

' ‘ “ ^ ' ‘ * '/ic:; 

<« 










CAPTAIN FRACASSE 



Red Letter Fiction Series 

$ 

Price, Per Volume, $1.25 

MURIELLA ; OR, LE SELVE. By “ Ouida.” 

AN ENEMY TO THE KING. 

By R. N. Stephens. 

THE COUNT OF NIDECK. From the French 
of Erckmann-Chatrain. By Ralph Brown- 
ing Fiske. 

CAPTAIN FRACASSE. From the French of 
Gautier. By E. M. Beam. 

THE GOLDEN DOG. By William Kirby. 

THE SHADOW OF A CRIME. 

By Hall Caine. 


L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY, Publishers 

(incorporated) 

196 Summer Street, Boston, Mass. 







’ , >1V v' \r 4 

'■a^ ■ 


•'■• *% ’ '* ^ ‘.* *1 


. 


V. 


^ Ji 


-• ‘ ■ ''• .^ - ■'*. 

^ ; ■ ^- . •s ->axr-*VJ »- •\'tift .' il 

« • > / - «%W • 


■ ''■la.. V 

•i- 

.i^T 


r-4 ,. 







^ ^ •• 


«: 








k> 


' " #i* 1 




V .’-' . iff'.- • 

-^• -V > M « 7 a 




IP^ ';...l '' a". V '->*^ '■* 


> 

* ^ -,’T c, ■. ..^- ■ ' 'r '^ '»’ 

•ki . -f^ ■ .■' ■ fl..' 

• ,’ -jfl: :. ■ : Cf? - ' 


-ij; 

*i 



: f "■ 

• ** *.‘ ^ •' ^ 

t~ ?' - • ‘i 


I • 


4 . A: «4 •. 


V ■ • r 



■ - ,Y 


■i %. ■ ■ 4 - 


^ \ ^ r ^ ' 'A*V*j 

gihliTrT yf 


■V;: 


■ »<'Sf 

• ,^^'V• ' * - 

•; * ; 4* ^ -rcii 











('t. 




“BUT THROWING HER HEAD HACK, LOOKED FIXEDLY AT 


HIM 


CMAIN fMCASSE 

BY 

THEOPHILE GAUTIER 

TRANSUTEB BY 

ELLEN nURIWfBEM 




ILLUSTRATED 

BY 

VICTOR J\ 3 EARLES 

\ -^ 6^11887 ] 

BOSTON 

L£ pAGEZ^C^nPANY 
INCORPORATED 
JY?7 




.Q C 

S' 


Copyright, i8gy 

By L. C. Page and Company 

(incorporated) 


Colonial ^rcss: 

C. H. Simonds & Co.. Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 


CONTENTS 


. PAGE 

Chapter- '^ I . — Castle Misery i 

“ ull. — T he Chariot of Thespis 19 

“ III. — The Blue Sun Inn 50 

“ IV. — An Adventure with Brigands 59 

“ V. — At the Chateau de Bruyeres 74 

“ VI. — A Snow-Storm antd its Consequences... 124 

“ VII. — Captain Fracasse. 151 

“ VIII. — The Duke of Vallombreuse 182 

“ IX. — A Melee and a Duel 219 

“ X. — A Midnight Adventure 262 

^ “ • XI. — The Pont-Neuf 297 

“ XII. — The Crowned Radish 325 

^ “ XIII. — A Double Attack 333 

“ XIV. — Lampourde’s Delicacy 350 

“ XV. — Malartic at Work 364 

“ XVI. — Vallombreuse 390 

“ XVII. — The Amethyst Ring 419 

“ XVIII. — A Family Party 446 

“ XIX. — Nettles and Cobwebs 472 

“ XX. — Chiquita’s Declaration of Love 490 

“ XXI.— “Hymen! Oh Hymen 1 ” 500 

“ XXII. — The Castle of Happiness 516 

iii 







f 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

“ But throwing her head back, looked fixedly 

AT him” . . . . . . . Frontispiece 

“ ‘ Hospitality, most noble seignior, hospitality ’ ” 20 

‘“Pardon me, my lord’”. ..... 79 

“ And instantly taking off his hat with a 

GRAND FLOURISH ” 93 

“‘My thoughts soar far above and beyond 

her’” 257 

“His SWORD going clean through it ” . . .261 

“‘The lady of the necklace!’ she exclaimed” 293 
“He sank gracefully down upon one knee” . 339 

“ ‘ And pray, what is the real name of this 

VALIANT CHAMPION?’” ...... 459 

“Who turned very pale” 484 


V 









■l ■ 

i 



f 




% ^ 




i 



• < 





> ' 


I 
t 

I 



I 



1 


i • 

t • 


s 


1 » 











jt 


I 


# 


•• 



» 


' I. 

% • 


I 





CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


CHAPTER I. 

» CASTLE MISE RY. 

Upon the southern slope of one of those barren hills 
that rise abruptly here and there in the desolate expanse 
of the Landes, in South-western France, stood, in the 
reign of Louis XIII., a gentleman’s residence, such as 
abound in Gascony, and which the country people dig- 
nify by the name of chateau. 

Two tall towers, with extinguisher tops, mounted 
guard at the angles of the mansion, and gave it rather a 
feudal air. The deep grooves upon its facade betrayed 
the former existence of a draw-bridge, rendered unnec- 
essary now by the filling up of the moat, while the 
towers were draped for more than half their height with 
a most luxuriant growth of ivy, whose deep, rich green 
contrasted happily with the ancient gray walls. 

A traveller, seeing from afar, the steep pointed roof 
and lofty towers standing out against the sky, above the 
furze and heather that crowned the hill-top, would have 
pronounced it a rather imposing chateau — the residence 
probably of some provincial magnate ; but as he drew 
near would have quickly found reason to change his 
opinion. 

z 


2 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


The road which led to it from the highway was entirely 
overgrown with moss and weeds, save a narrow pathway 
in the centre, though two deep ruts, full of water, and in- 
habited by a numerous family of frogs, bore mute witness 
to the fact that carriages had once passed that way. 

The roof, of dark red tiles, was disfigured by many 
large, leprous-looking, yellow patches, whilst in some 
places the decayed rafters had given way, leaving for- 
midable gaps. The numerous weather-cocks that sur- 
mounted the towers and chimneys were so rusted that 
they could no longer budge an inch, and pointed per- 
sistently in various directions. The high dormer windows 
were partially closed by old wooden shutters, warped, split, 
and in every stage of dilapidation ; broken stones filled up 
the loop-holes and openings in the towers ; of the twelve 
large windows in the front of the house, eight were boarded 
up ; the remaining four had small diamond-shaped panes 
of thick, greenish glass, fitting so loosely in their leaden 
frames that they shook and rattled at every breath 
of wind ; between these windows a great deal of the 
stucco had fallen off, leaving the rough wall exposed to 
view. 

Above the grand old entrance door, whose massive 
stone frame and lintel retained traces of rich ornamenta- 
tion, almost obliterated by time and neglect, was sculp- 
tured a coa>t of arms, now so defaced that the most 
accomplished adept in heraldry would not be able to 
decipher it. Only one leaf of the great double door 
was ever opened now, for not many guests were received 
or entertained at the chateau in these days of its deca- 
dence. Swallows had built their nests in every available 
nook about it, and but for a slender thread of smoke ris- 
ing spirally from a chimney at the back of this dismal. 


CASTLE MISERY. 


3 


half-ruined mansion, the traveler would have surely be- 
lieved it to be uninhabited. This was the only sign of 
life visible about the whole place, like the little cloud 
upon the mirror from the breath of a dying man, which 
alone gives evidence that he still lives. 

Upon pushing open the practicable leaf of the great 
worm-eaten, door, which yielded reluctantly, and creaked 
dolefully as it turned upon its rusty hinges, the curious 
visitor entered a sort of portico, more ancient than the 
rest of the building, with fine, large columns of bluish 
granite, and a lofty vaulted roof. At the point of in- 
tersection of the arches was a stone shield, bearing the 
same coat of arms that was sculptured over the entrance 
without. This one was in somewhat better preservation 
than the other, and seenied to bear something resembling 
three golden storks (cigognes) on an azure field ; though 
it was so much in shadow, and so faded and dingy, that 
it was impossible to- make it out clearly. Fastened to 
the wall, at a convenient height from the ground, were 
great iron extinguishers, blackened by the smoke from 
torches in long by-gone years, and also iron rings, to 
which the guests’ horses were made fast in the olden 
times, when the castle was in its glory. The dust that 
lay thick upon them now showed that it was long since 
they had been made use of. 

From this portico — whence a door on either side 
opened into the main building ; one leading into a long 
suite of apartments on the ground flour, and the other 
into what had probably been a guard-room — the explorer 
passed into an interior court, dismal, damp, and bare. 
In the corners nettles and various rank weeds were grow- 
ing riotously amid the great heaps of rubbish fallen from 
the crumbling cornice high above, and grass had sprung 


4 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


up everywhere in the crevices of the stone pavement 
Opposite the entrance a flight of dilapidated, shaky steps, 
with a heavy stone balustrade, led down into a neglected 
garden, which was gradually becoming a perfect thicket. 
Excepting in one small bed, where a few cabbages were 
growing, there was no attempt at cultivation, and nature 
had reasserted her rights everywhere else in this aban- 
doned spot, taking, apparently, a fierce delight in effac- 
ing all traces of man’s labor. The fruit trees threw out 
irregular branches without fear of the pruning knife ; 
the box, intended to form a narrow border to the curi- 
ously shaped flower-beds and grass-plots, had grown up 
unchecked into huge, bushy shrubs, while a great vari- 
ety of sturdy weeds had usurped the places formerly de- 
voted to choice plants and beautiful, fragrant flowers. 
Brambles, bristling with sharp thorns, which had thrown 
their long, straggling arms across the paths, caught and 
tried to hold back any bold adventurer who attempted to 
penetrate into the mysterious depths of this desolate 
wilderness. Solitude is averse to being surprised in dis- 
habille, and surrounds herself with all sorts of defensive 
obstacles. 

However, the courageous explorer who persisted in 
following the ancient, overgrown alley, and was not to be 
daunted by formidable briers that tore his hands and 
clothing, nor low-hanging, closely interlaced branches that 
struck him smart blows in the face as he forced his way 
through them, would have reached at last a sort of rocky 
niche, fancifully arranged as a grotto. Besides the masses 
of ivy, iris and gladiolus, that had been carefully planted 
long ago in the interstices of the rock, it was draped with 
a profusion of graceful wild vines and feathery ferns, 
which half-veiled the marble statue, representing some 


CASTLE MISERY. 


5 


mythological divinity, that still stood in this lonely re- 
treat. It must have been intended for Flora or Pomona, 
but now there were tufts of repulsive, venomous-looking 
mushrooms in the pretty, graceful, little basket on her 
arm, instead of the sculptured fruit or flowers that should 
have filled it. Although her nose was broken, and her 
fair body disfigured by many dark stains, and overgrown 
in part with clinging mosses, it could still plainly be seen 
that she had once been very lovely. At her feet was a 
marble basin, shaped like a shell, half full of discolored, 
stagnant water ; the lion’s head just above it, now almost 
entirely concealed by a thick curtain of leaves, no longer 
poured forth the sparkling stream that used to fall into 
it with a musical murmur. This little grotto, with its 
fountain and statue, bore witness to former wealth ; and 
also to the aesthetic taste of some long-dead owner of the 
domain. The marble goddess was in the Florentine style 
of the Renaissance, and probably the work of one of 
those Italian sculptors who followed in the train of del 
Rosso or Primaticcio, when they came to France at the 
bidding of that generous patron of the arts, Francis I. ; 
which time was also, apparently, the epoch of the great- 
est prosperity of this noble family, now so utterly fallen 
into decay. 

Behind the grotto rose a high wall, built of stone, 
crumbling and mouldy now, but still bearing some broken 
remains of trellis-work, evidently intended to be covered 
with creepers that would entirely conceal the wall itself 
with a rich tapestry of verdure. This was the limit of 
the garden ; beyond stretched the wide expanse of the 
sandy, barren Landes, flecked here and there with patches 
of scanty heather, and scattered groves of pine trees. 

Turning back towards the chateau it became apparent 


6 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


that this side of it was even more neglected and ruinous 
than the one we have already described ; the recent pov- 
erty-stricken owners having tried to keep up appearances 
as far as possible, and concentrated their efforts upon the 
front of their dilapidated abode. In the stable, where 
were stalls for twenty horses, a miserable, old, white pony 
stood at an empty manger, nibbling disconsolately at a 
scanty truss of hay, and frequently turning his sunken, 
lack-lustre eyes expectantly towards the door. In front 
of an extensive kennel, where the lord of the manor used 
to keep a whole pack of hounds, a single dog, patheti- 
cally thin, lay sleeping tranquilly and soundly, apparently 
so accustomed to the unbroken solitude of the place that 
he had abandoned all habits of watchfulness. 

Entering the chateau the visitor found himself in a 
broad and lofty hall, containing a grand old staircase, 
with a richly carved, wooden balustrade — a good deal 
broken and defaced now, like everything else in this 
doleful Castle Misery. The walls had been elaborately 
frescoed', representing colossal figures of Hercule s sup- 
porting brackets upon which rested the heavily orna- 
mented cornice. Springing from it fantastic vines climbed 
upward on the arched ceiling, and above them the blue 
sky, faded and dingy, was grotesquely variegated with 
dark spots, caused by the water filtering through from 
the dilapidated roof. Between the oft-repeated figures 
of Hercules were frescoed niches, wherein heads of Ro- 
man emperors and other illustrious historical characters 
had been depicted in glowing tints ; but all were so 
vague and dim now that they were but the ghosts of 
pictures, which should be described with the shadows of 
words — ordinary terms are too substantial to apply to 
them. The very echoes in this deserted hall seemed 


CASTLE MISERY. 


7 


startled and amazed as they repeated and multiplied the 
unwonted sound of footsteps. 

A door near the head of the first flight of stairs opened 
into what had evidently been the great banqueting hall 
in the old days when sumptuous repasts and numerous 
guests were not uncommon things in the chateau. A 
huge beam divided the lofty ceiling into two compart- 
ments, which were crossed at regular intervals by smaller 
joists, richly carved, and retaining some traces of gild- 
ing. The spaces between had been originally of a deep 
blue tint, almost lost now under the thick coating of dust 
and spiders’ webs that no housemaid’s mop ever invaded. 
Above the grand old chimney-piece was a noble stag’s 
head, with huge, spreading antlers, and on the walls hung 
rows of ancient family portraits, so faded and mouldy 
now that most of the faces had a ghastly hue, and at 
night, by the dim, flickering lamp-light, they looked like 
a company of spectres. Nothing in the world is sadder 
than a collection of old portraits hanging thus, neglected 
and forgotten, in deserted halls — representations, half 
obliterated themselves, of forms and faces long since re- 
turned to dust. Yet these painted phantoms were most 
appropriate inhabitants of this desolate abode ; real liv- 
ing people would have seemed out of place in the death- 
stricken house. 

In the middle of the room stood an immense dining- 
table of dark, polished wood, much worm-eaten, and 
gradually falling into decay. Two tall buffets, elabo- 
rately carved and ornamented, stood on opposite sides of 
the room, with only a few odd pieces of Palissy ware, 
representing lizards, crabs, and shell-fish, reposing on 
shiny green leaves, and two or three delicate wine-glasses 
of quaint patterns remaining upon the shelves where gold 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


s' 

and silver plate used to glitter in rich profusion, as was 
the mode in France. The handsome old chairs, with 
their high, carved backs and faded velvet cushions, that 
had been so firm and luxurious once, were tottering and 
insecure ; but it mattered little, since no one ever came 
to sit in them now round the festive board, and they 
stood against the wall in prim order, under the rows of 
family portraits. 

A smaller room opened out of this one, hung round 
with faded, moth-eaten tapestry. In one corner stood a 
large bed, with four tall, twisted columns and long, ample 
curtains of rich brocade, which had been delicate green 
and white, but now were of a dingy, yellowish hue, and 
cut completely through from top to bottom in every fold. 
An ebony table, with some pretty gilded ornaments still 
clinging to it, a mirror dim with age, and two large arm- 
chairs, covered with worn and faded embroidery, that 
had been wrought by the fair fingers of some noble dame 
long since dead and forgotten, completed the furniture 
of this dismal chamber. 

In these two rooms were the latticed windows seen in 
the front of the chateau, and over them still hung long 
sweeping curtains, so tattered and moth-eaten that they 
were almost falling to pieces. Profound silence reigned 
here, unbroken save by occasional skurrying and 
squeaking of mice behind the wainscot, the gnawing of 
rats in the wall, or the ticking of the death-watch. 

From the tapestried chamber a door opened into a 
long suite of deserted rooms, which were lofty and of 
noble proportions, but devoid of furniture, and given up 
to dust, spiders and rats. The apartments on the floor 
above them were the home of great numbers of bats, 
owls, and jackdaws, who found ready ingress through the 


ft 


CASTLE MISERY. 


9 


large holes in the roof. Every evening they flew forth 
in flocks, with much flapping of wings, and weird, melan- 
choly cries and shrieks, in search of the food not to be 
found in the immediate vicinity of this forlorn mansion. 

The apartments on the ground floor contained nothing 
but a few bundles of straw, a heap of corn-cobs, and 
some antiquated gardening implements. In one of them, 
however, was a rude bed, covered with a single, coarse 
blanket ; presumably that of the only domestic remain- 
ing in the whole establishment. 

It was from the kitchen chimney that the little spiral 
of smoke escaped which was seen from without. A few 
sticks were burning in the wide, old-fashioned fireplace, 
but the flames looked pale under the bright light that 
streamed down upon them through the broad, straight 
flue. The pot that hung from the clumsy iron crane was 
boiling sleepily, and if the curious visitor could have 
peeped into it he would have seen that the little cabbage 
bed in the garden had contributed of its produce to the 
pot-au-feu. An old black cat was sitting as close to the 
fire as he could without singeing his whiskers, and gravely 
watching the simmering pot with longing eyes. His ears 
had been closely cropped, and he had not a vestige of a 
tail, so that he looked like one of those grotesque Japa- 
nese chimeras that everybody is familiar with. Upon the 
table, near at hand, a white plate, a tin drinking cup, 
and a china dish, bearing the family arms stamped in 
blue, were neatly arranged, evidently in readiness for 
somebody’s supper. For a long time the cat remained 
perfectly motionless, intently watching the pot which had 
almost ceased to boil as the fire got low, and the silence 
continued unbroken ; but^at last a slow, heavy step was 
heard approaching from without, and presently the door 

I* 


lO 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


opened to admit an old man, who looked half peasant, 
half gentleman’s servant. The black cat immediately 
quitted his place by the fire and went to meet him ; rub- 
bing himself against the new comer’s legs, arching his 
back and purring loudly ; testifying his joy in every way 
possible to him. 

“Well, well, Beelzebub,” said the old man, bending 
down and stroking him affectionately, “ are you really so 
glad to see me ? Yes, I know you are, and it pleases 
me, old fellow, so it does. We are so lonely here, my 
poor young master and I, that even the welcome of a 
dumb beast is not to be despised. They do say that you 
have no soul, Beelzebub, but you certainly do love us, 
and understand most times what we say to you too.” 
These greetings exchanged, Beelzebub led the way back 
to the fire, and then with beseeching eyes, looking alter- 
nately from the face of his friend to the pot-au-feu, 
seemed mutely begging for his share of its contents. 
Poor Beelzebub was growing so old that he could no 
longer catch as many rats and mice as his appetite craved, 
and he was evidently very hungry. 

Pierre, that was the old servant’s name, threw more 
wood on the smouldering fire, and then sat down on a 
settle in the chimney corner, inviting his companion — 
who had to wait still for his supper as patiently as he 
might — to take a seat beside him. The firelight shone 
full upon the old man’s honest, weather-beaten face, the 
few scattered locks of snow-white hair escaping from un- 
der his dark blue woolen cap, his thick, black eyebrows 
and deep wrinkles. He had the usual characteristics of 
the Basque race ; a long face, hooked nose, and dark, 
gypsey-like complexion. He wore a sort of livery, which 
was so old and threadbare that it would be impossible to 


CASTLE MISERY. 


I 


make out its original color, and his stiff, soldier-like car- 
riage and movements proclaimed that he had at some 
time in his life served in a military capacity. “ The 
young master is late to-night,” he muttered to himself, as 
the daylight faded. “What possible pleasure can he 
find in these long, solitary rambles over the dunes ? It 
is true though that it is so dreary here, in this lonely, 
dismal house, that any other place is preferable.” 

At this moment a joyous barking was heard without, 
the old pony in the stable stamped and whinnied, and 
the cat jumped down from h.is place beside Pierre and 
trotted off towards the door with great alacrity. In an 
instant the latch was lifted, and the old servant rose, tak- 
ing off his woolen cap respectfully, as his master came 
into the kitchen. He was preceded by the poor old dog, 
trying to jump up on him, but falling back every time 
without being able to reach his face, and Beelzebub 
seemed to welcome them both — showing no evidence of 
the antipathy usually existing between the feline and 
canine races ; on the contrary, receiving Miraut with 
marks of affection which were fully reciprocated. 

The Baron de Sigognac, for it was indeed the lord of 
the manor who now entered, was a young rnan of five or 
six and twenty ; though at first sight he seemed much 
older, because of the deep gravity, even sadness, of his 
demeanor ; the feeling of utter powerlessness which 
poverty brings having effectually chased away all the 
natural gayety and light-heartedness of youth. Dark 
circles surrounded his sunken eyes, his cheeks were 
hollow, his moustache drooped in a sorrowful curve over 
his sad mouth. His long black hair was negligently 
pushed back from his pale face, and showed a want of 
care remarkable in a young man who was strikingly 


12 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


handsome, despite his doleful, desponding expression. 
The constant pressure of a crushing grief had drawn 
sorrowful lines in a countenance that a little animation 
would have rendered charming. All the elasticity and 
hopefulness natural to his age seemed to have been lost 
in his useless struggles against an unhappy fate. Though 
his frame was lithe, vigorous, and admirably propor- 
tioned, all his movements were slow and apathetic, like 
those of an old man. His gestures were entirely devoid 
of animation, his whole expression inert, and it was evi- 
dently a matter of perfect indifference to him where he 
might chance to find himself — at home, in his dismal 
chateau, or abroad in the desolate Landes. 

He had on an old gray felt hat, much too large for 
him, with a dingy, shabby feather, that drooped as if it 
felt heartily ashamed of itself, and the miserable condi- 
tion to which it was reduced. A broad collar of guipure 
lace, ragged in many places, was turned down over a 
just-au-corps, which had been cut for a taller and much 
stouter man than the slender, young baron. The sleeves 
of his doublet were so long that they fell over his hands, 
which were small and shapely, and there were large iron 
spurs on the clumsy, old-fashioned riding boots he wore. 
These shabby, antiquated clothes had belonged to his 
father ; they were made according to the fashion that 
prevailed during the preceding reign ; and the poor 
young nobleman, whose appearance in them was both 
ridiculous and touching, might have been taken for one 
of his own ancestors. Although he tenderly cherished 
his father’s memory, and tears often came into his eyes 
as he put on these garments that had seemed actually a 
part of him, yet it was not from choice that young de 
Sigognac availed himself of the paternal wardrobe. Un- 


CASTLE MISERY. 


13 


fortunately he had no other clothes, save those of his 
boyhood, long ago out-grown, and so he was thankful to 
have these, distasteful as they could not fail to be to him. 
The peasants, who had been accustomed to hold them in 
respect when worn by their old seignior, did not think it 
strange or absurd to see them on his youthful successor ; 
just as they did not seem to notice or be aware of the 
half-ruined condition of the chateau. It had come so 
gradually that they were thoroughly used to it, and took 
it as a matter of course. The Baron de Sigognac, though 
poverty-striken and forlorn, was still in their eyes the 
noble lord of the manor ; the decadence of the family 
did not strike them at all as it would a stranger ; and yet 
it was a grotesquely melancholy sight to see the poor 
young nobleman pass by, in his shabby old clothes, on 
his miserable old pony, and followed by his forlorn old 
dog. 

The baron sat down in silence at the table prepared 
for him, having recognized Pierre’s respectful salute by a 
kindly gesture. The old servant immediately busied him- 
self in serving his master’s frugal supper ; first pouring 
the hot soup — which was of that kind, popular am.ong 
the poor peasantry of Gascony, called “ garbure ” — upon 
some bread cut into small pieces in an earthen basin, 
which he set before the baron ; then, fetching from the 
cupboard a dish of bacon, cold, and cooked in Gascon 
fashion, he placed that also upon the table, and had 
nothing else to add to this meagre repast. The baron ate 
it slowly, with an absent air, whilst Miraut and Beelzebub, 
one on each side of him, received their full share from 
his kind hand. 

The supper finished, he fell into a deep reverie. Miraut 
had laid his head caressingly upon his master’s knee, and 


H 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


looked up into his face with loving, intelligent eyes, 
somewhat dimmed by age, but still seeming to understand 
his thoughts and sympathize with his sadness. Beelzebub 
purred loudly meantime, and occasionally mewed plain- 
tively to attract his attention, whilst Pierre stood in a re- 
spectful attitude, cap in hand, at a little distance, motion- 
less as a statue, waiting patiently until his master’s 
wandering thoughts should return. By this time the 
darkness had fallen, and the flickering radiance from the 
few sticks blazing in the great fireplace made strange 
effects of light and shade in the spacious old kitchen. It 
was a sad picture ; this last scion of a noble race, form- 
erly rich and powerful, left wandering like an uneasy 
ghost in the castle of his ancestors, with but one faithful 
old servant remaining to him of the numerous retinue of 
the olden times ; one poor old dog, half starved, and 
gray with age, where used to be a pack of thirty hounds ; 
one miserable, superannuated pony in the stable where 
twenty horses had been wont to stand ; and one old cat 
to beg for caresses from his hand. 

At last the baron roused himself, and signed to Pierre 
that he wished to retire to his own chamber ; whereupon 
the servant lighted a pine knot at the fire, and preceded 
his master up the stairs, Miraut and Beelzebub accom- 
panying them. The smoky, flaring light of the torch 
made the faded figures on the wall seem to waver and 
move as they passed through the hall and up the broad 
staircase, and gave a strange, weird expression to the 
family portraits that looked down upon this little proces- 
sion as it moved by below them. When they reached the 
tapestried chamber Pierre lighted a little copper lamp, 
and then bade the baron good-night, followed by Miraut 
as he retraced his steps to the kitchen ; but Beelzebub, 


CASTLE MISERY. 


15 


being a privileged character, remained, and curled him- 
self up comfortably in one of the old arm-chairs, whilst 
his master threw himself listlessly into the other, in utter 
despair at the thought of his miserable loneliness, and 
aimless, hopeless life. If the chamber seemed dreary 
and forlorn by day, it was far more so by night. The 
faded figures in the tapestry had an uncanny look ; 
especially one, a hunter, who might have passed for an 
assassin, just taking aim at his victim. The smile on his 
startlingly red lips, in reality only a self-satisfied smirk, 
was fairly devilish in that light, and his ghastly face 
horribly life-like. The lamp burned dimly in the damp, 
heavy air, the wind sighed and moaned along the cor- 
ridors, and strange, frightful sounds came from the de- 
serted chambers close at hand. The storm that had long 
been threatening had come at last, and large, heavy rain- 
drops were driven violently against the window-panes by 
gusts of wind that made them rattle loudly in their 
leaden frames. Sometimes it seemed as if the whole 
sash would give way before the fiercer blasts, as though 
a giant had set his knee against it, and was striving to 
force an entrance. Now and again, when the wind lulled 
for a moment whilst it gathered strength for a fresh 
assault, the horrid shriek of an owl would be heard above 
the dashing of the rain that was falling in torrents. 

The master of this dismal mansion paid little attention 
to this lugubrious symphony, but Beelzebub was very 
uneasy, starting up at every sound, and peering into 
the shadowy corners of the room, as if he could see 
there something invisible to human eyes. The baron 
took up a little book that was lying upon the table, 
glanced at the familiar arms stamped upon its tarnished 
cover, and opening it began to read in a listless, absent 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


l6 

way. His eyes followed the smooth rhythm of Ronsard’s 
ardent love-songs and stately sonnets, but his thoughts 
were wandering far afield, and he soon threw the book 
from him with an impatient gesture, and began slowly 
unfastening his garments, with the air of a man who is not 
sleepy, but only goes to bed because he does not know 
what else to do with himself, and has perhaps a faint 
hope of forgetting his troubles in the embrace of Mor- 
pheus, most blessed of all the gods. The sand runs so 
slowly in the hour-glass on a dark, stormy night, in a 
half- ruined castle, ten leagues away from any living 
soul. 

The poor young baron, only surviving representative 
of an ancient and noble house, had much indeed to 
make him melancholy and despondent. His ancestors 
had worked their own ruin, and that of their descend- 
ants, in various ways. Some by gambling, some in the 
army, some by undue prodigality in living — in order that 
they might shine at court — so that each generation had 
left the estate more and more diminished. The fiefs, 
the farms, the land surrounding the chateau itself, all 
had been sold, one after the other, and the last baron, 
after desperate efforts to retrieve the fallen fortunes of the 
family— efforts which came too late, for it is useless to 
try to stop the leaks after the vessel has gone down — 
had left his son nothing but this half-ruined chateau and 
the few acres of barren land immediately around it. 
The unfortunate child had been born and brought up in 
poverty. His mother had died young, broken-hearted 
at the wretched prospects of her only son ; so that he 
could not even remember her sweet caresses and tender, 
loving care. His father had been very stern with him ; 
punishing him severely for the most trivial offences ; yet 


CASTLE MISERY. 


17 

he would have been glad now even of his sharp rebukes, 
so terribly lonely had he been for the last four years ; 
ever since his father was laid in the family vault. His 
youthful pride would not allow him to associate with the 
noblesse of the province without the accessories suitable 
to his rank, though he would have been received with 
open arms by them, so his solitude was never invaded. 
Those who knew his circumstances respected as well as 
pitied the poor, proud young baron, whilst many of the 
former friends of the family believed that it was extinct ; 
which indeed it inevitably would be, with this its only 
remaining scion, if things went on much longer as they 
had been going for many years past. 

The baron had not yet removed a single garment 
when his attention was attracted by the strange uneasi- 
ness of Beelzebub, who finally jumped down from his 
arm-chair, went straight to one of the windows, and 
raising himself on his hind legs put his fore-paws on the 
casing and stared out into the thick darkness, where it 
was impossible to distinguish anything but the driving 
rain. A loud howl from Miraut at the same moment 
proclaimed that he too was aroused, and that something 
wery unusual must be going on in the vicinity of the 
chateau, ordinarily as quiet as the grave. Miraut kept up 
persistently a furious barking, and the baron gave up all 
idea of going to bed. He hastily readjusted his dress, so 
that he might be in readiness for whatever should hap- 
pen, and feeling a little excited at this novel commotion. 

“ What can be the matter with poor old Miraut ? He 
usually sleeps from sunset to sunrise without making 
a sound, save his snores. Can it be that a wolf is prowl- 
ing about the place ? ” said the young man to himself, as 
he buckled the belt of his sword round his slender waist. 


8 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


A formidable weapon it was, that sword, with long blade 
and heavy iron scabbard. 

At that moment three loud knocks upon the great 
outer door resounded through the house. Who could 
possibly have strayed here at this hour, so far from the 
travelled roads, and in this tempest that was making 
night horrible without ? No such thing had occurred 
within the baron’s recollection. What could it portend ? 


CHAPTER II. 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 

The Baron de Sigognac went down the broad stair- 
case without a moment’s delay to answer this mysterious 
summons, protecting with his hand the feeble flame of 
the small lamp he carried from the many draughts that 
threatened to blow it out. The light, shining through 
his slender fingers, gave them a rosy tinge, so that he 
merited the epithet applied by Homer, the immortal 
bard, to the laughing, beautiful Aurora, even though he 
advanced through the thick darkness with his usual 
melancholy mien, and followed by a black cat, instead 
of preceding the glorious god of day. 

Setting down his lamp in a sheltered corner, he pro- 
ceeded to take down the massive bar that secured the 
door, cautiously opened the practicable leaf, and found 
himself face to face with at man, upon whom the light of 
the lamp shone sufficiently to show rather a grotesque 
figure, standing uncovered in the pelting rain. His head 
was bald and shining, with a few locks of gray hair clus- 
tering about the temples. A jolly red nose, bulbous in 
form, a small pair of twinkling, roguish eyes, looking out 
from under bushy, jet-black eyebrows, flabby cheeks, 
over which was spread a net-work of purplish fibres, full, 
sensual lips, and a scanty, straggling beard, that scarcely 
covered the short, round chin, made up a physiognomy 
worthy to serve as the model for a Silenus ; for it was 

19 


20 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


plainly that of a wine-bibber and bon vivant. Yet a cer- 
tain expression of good humor and kindness, almost of 
gentleness, redeemed what would otherwise have been 
a repulsive face. The comical little wrinkles gathering 
about the eyes, and the merry upward turn of the corners 
of the mouth, showed a disposition to smile as he met 
the inquiring gaze of the young baron, but he only bowed 
repeatedly and profoundly, with exaggerated politeness 
and respect. 

This extraordinary pantomime finished, with a grand 
flourish, the burlesque personage, still standing uncovered 
in the pouring rain, anticipated the question upon de 
Sigognac’s lips, and began at once the following address, 
in an emphatic and declamatory tone : 

“ I pray you deign to excuse, noble seignior, my hav- 
ing come thus to knock at the gates of your castle in 
person at this untimely hour, without sending a page or 
a courier in advance, to announce my approach in a suit- 
able manner. Necessity knows no law, and forces the 
most polished personages to be guilty of gross breaches 
of etiquette at times.” 

“ What is it you want ? ” interrupted the baron, in 
rather a peremptory tone, annoyed by the absurd address 
of this strange old creature, whose sanity he began to 
doubt. 

“ Hospitality, most noble seignior ; hospitality for my- 
self and my comrades — princes and princesses, heroes 
and beauties, men of letters and great captains, pretty 
waiting-maids and honest valets, who travel through the 
provinces from town to town in the chariot of Thespis, 
drawn by oxen, as in the ancient times. This chariot is 
now hopelessly stuck in the mud only a stone’s throw 
from your castle, my noble lord.” 



“ ^ HOSPITALITY, MOST NOBLE SEIGNIOR, HOSPITALITY 





■i 


V. 


/• 



I 


• . 


% 



* 


« 






a 


♦ 




t 




♦ 


I 


% 


» 


1 


I . 


1 

X* 

r 


k 


> 



« 





V 




< 


a 


« 


* 


I 


V 


f 


I 






I 


\ 


9 


$ 


4 




I 





4 


% 


r 

^ * 




« 

« 


» 




a 


a 





I 

. « k 




% 


t . 


% 


V 


# 







I 


) 


I 


( 


4 


« 


I 


« 


» • * • 


* 


■ . 




> 







t 


I 


a 



a 




I 




a 


» 

I 

4 


I 


I 


1 


« 


4 


# 


^ ■ ... 

■ U A. . . 

• » 


I 


» 







r 







"4 ‘ ' 

T 

f« 


1 


» 


• » 

I. ’ 

O I A'* A • 


4 

■*. 


t 

t 


4 


a 


1 


« 


'{ 



t 

• W. 

.’ . *• 

« « 

4 t 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


21 


If I understand aright what you say,” answered the 
baron, “ you are a strolling band of players, and have 
lost your way. Though my house is sadly dilapidated, 
and I cannot offer you more than mere shelter, you are 
neartily welcome to that, and will be better off within 
here than exposed to the fury of this wild storm.” 

The pedant — for such seemed to be his character in 
the troupe — bowed his acknowledgments. 

During this colloquy, Pierre, awakened by Miraut’s 
loud barking, had risen and joined his master at the door. 
As soon as he was informed of what had occurred, he 
lighted a lantern, and with the baron set forth, under the 
guidance of the droll old actor, to find and rescue the 
chariot in distress. When they reached it Leander and 
Matamore were tugging vainly at the wheels, whilst his 
majesty, the king, pricked up the weary ox'en with the 
point of his dagger. The actresses, wrapped in their 
cloaks and seated in the rude chariot, were in despair, 
and much frightened as well — wet and weary too, poor 
things ! This most welcome reinforcement inspired all 
with fresh courage, and, guided by Pierre’s suggestions, 
they soon succeeded in getting the unwieldy vehicle out 
of the quagmire and into the road leading to the chateau, 
which was speedily reached, and the huge equipage 
safely piloted through the grand portico into the interior 
court. The oxen were at once taken from before it and 
led into the stable, whilst the actresses followed de 
Sigognac up to the ancient banqueting hall, which was 
the most habitable room in the chateau. Pierre brought 
some wood, and soon had a bright fire blazing cheerily 
in the great fireplace. It was needed, although but the 
beginning of September and the weather still warm, to 
dry the dripping garments of the company ; and besides, 


22 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


the air was so damp and chilly in this long disused apart- 
ment that the genial warmth and glow of the fire were 
welcome to all. 

Although the strolling comedians were accustomed to 
find themselves in all sorts of odd, strange lodgings in 
the course of their wanderings, they now looked with 
astonishment at their extraordinary surroundings ; being 
careful, however, like well-bred people, not to manifest 
too plainly the surprise they could not help feeling. 

“ I regret very much that I cannot offer you a supper,” 
said their young host, when all had assembled round the 
fire, “ but my larder is so bare that a mouse could not 
find enough for a meal in it. I live quite alone in this 
house with my faithful old Pierre ; never visited by any- 
body ; and you can plainly perceive, without my telling 
you, that plenty does not abound here.” 

“ Never mind that, noble seignior,” answered Blazius, 
the pedant, “ for though on the stage we may sit down to 
mock repasts — pasteboard fowls and wooden bottles — we 
are careful to provide ourselves with more substantial and 
savory viands in real life. As quartermaster of the troupe 
I always have in reserve a Bayonne ham, a game pasty, or 
something of that sort, with at least a dozen bottles of 
good old Bordeaux.” 

“ Bravo, sir pedant,” cried Leander, ‘‘ do you go forth- 
with and fetch in the provisions ; and if his lordship will 
permit, and deign to join us, we will have our little feast 
here.' The ladies will set the table for us meanwhile I 
am sure.” 

The baron graciously nodded his assent, being in truth 
so amazed at the whole proceeding that he could not 
easily have found words just then ; and he followed with 
wondering and admiring eyes the graceful movements of 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


23 


Serafina and Isabelle, who, quitting their seats by the fire, 
proceeded to arrange upon the worn but snow-white cloth 
that Pierre had spread on the ancient dining-table, the 
plates and other necessary articles that the old servant 
brought forth from the recesses of the carved buffets. 
The pedant quickly came back, carrying a large basket 
in each hand, and with a triumphant air placed a huge 
pasty of most tempting appearance in the middle of the 
table. To this he added a large smoked tongue, some 
slices of rosy Bayonne ham, and six bottles of wine. 

Beelzebub watched these interesting preparations from 
a distance with eager eyes, but was too much afraid of all 
these strangers to approach and claim a share of the good 
things on the table. The poor beast was so accustomed 
to solitude and quiet, never seeing any one beyond his 
beloved master and Pierre, that he was horribly fright- 
ened at the sudden irruption of these noisy new- 
comers. 

Finding the feeble light ’ of the baron’s small lamp 
rather dim, Matamore had gone out to the chariot and 
brought back two showy candelabra, which ordinarily 
did duty on the stage. They each held several candles, 
which, in addition to the warm radiance from the blazing 
fire, made quite a brilliant illumination in this room, so 
lately dark, cheerless, and deserted. It had become 
warm and comfortable by this time ; its family portraits 
and tarnished splendor looked their best in the bright, 
soft light, which had chased away the dark shadows and 
given a new beauty to everything it fell upon ; the whole 
place was metamorphosed ; a festive air prevailed, and 
the ancient banqueting hall once more resounded with 
cheery voices and gay laughter. 

The poor young baron, to whom all this had been in- 


24 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


tensely disagreeable at first, became aware of a strange 
feeling of comfort and pleasure stealing over him, to 
which, after a short struggle, he finally yielded himself 
entirely. Isabelle, Serafina, even the pretty soubrette^ 
seemed to him, unaccustomed as he was to feminine 
beauty and grace, like goddesses come down from Mount 
Olympus, rather than mere ordinary mortals. They were 
all very pretty, and well fitted to turn heads far more 
experienced than his. The whole thing was like a de- 
lightful dream to him ; he almost doubted the evidence 
of his own senses, and every few minutes found himself 
dreading the awakening, and the vanishing of the en- 
trancing vision. 

When all was ready de Sigognac led Isabelle and Sera- 
fina to the table, placing one on each side of him, with 
the pretty soubrette opposite. Madame Leonarde, the 
duenna of the troupe, sat beside the pedant, Leander, 
Matamore, his majesty the tyrant, and Scapin finding 
places for themselves. The youthful host was now able 
to study the faces of his guests at his ease, as they sat 
round the table in the full light of the candles burning 
upon it in the two theatrical candelabra. He turned his 
attention to the ladies first, and it perhaps will not be 
out of place to give a little sketch of them here, while the 
pedant attacks the gigantic game pasty. 

Serafina, the “ leading lady ” of the troupe, was a hand- 
some young woman of four or five and twenty, who had 
quite a grand air, and was as dignified and graceful withal 
as any veritable noble dame who shone at the court of 
his most gracious majesty, Louis XIII. She had an oval 
face, slightly aquiline nose, large gray eyes, bright red 
lips — the under one full and pouting, like a ripe cherry — 
a very fair complexion, with a beautiful color in her 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


25 


cheeks when she was animated or excited, and rich 
masses of dark brown hair most becomingly arranged. 
She wore a round felt hat, with the wide rim turned up 
at one side, and trimmed with long, floating plumes. A 
broad lace collar was turned down over her dark green 
velvet dress, which was elaborately braided, and fitted 
closely to a fine, well-developed figure. A long, black 
silk scarf was worn negligently around her shapely shoul- 
ders, and although both velvet and silk were old and 
dingy, and the feathers in her hat wet and limp, they 
were still very effective, and she looked like a young queen 
who had strayed away from her realm ; the freshness and 
radiant beauty of her face more than made up for the 
shabbiness of her dress, and de Sigognac was fairly 
dazzled by her many charms. 

Isabelle was much more youthful than Serafina, as was 
requisite for her role of ingenuous young girl, and far 
more simply dressed. She had a sweet, almost childlike 
face, beautiful, silky, chestnut hair, with golden lights in 
it, dark, sweeping lashes veiling her large, soft eyes, a 
little rosebud of a mouth, and an air of modesty and 
purity that was evidently natural to her — not assumed. 
A gray silk gown, simply made, showed to advantage 
her slender, graceful form, which seemed far too fragile 
to endure the hardships inseparable from the wander- 
ing life she was leading. A high Elizabethan ruff made 
a most becoming frame for her sweet, delicately tinted, 
young face, and her only ornament was a string of pearl 
beads, clasped round her slender, white neck. Though 
her beauty was less striking at first sight than Serafina’s, 
it was of a higher order : not dazzling like hers, but 
surpassingly lovely in its exquisite purity and freshness, 
and promising to eclipse the other’s more showy charms, 
2 


26 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


when the half-opened bud should have expanded into 
the full-blown flower. 

The soubrette was like a beautiful Gypsy, with a clear, 
dark complexion, rich, mantling color in her velvety 
cheeks, intensely black hair — long, thick, and wavy — great, 
flashing, brown eyes, and rather a large mouth, with ripe, 
red lips, and dazzling white teeth — one’s very beau-ideal 
of a bewitching, intriguing waiting-maid, and one that 
might be a dangerous rival to any but a surpassingly 
lovely and fascinating mistress. She was one of those 
beauties that women are not apt to admire, but men rave 
about and run after the world over. She wore a fantas- 
tic costume of blue and yellow, which was odd, piquant, 
and becoming, and seemed fully conscious of her own 
charms. 

Madame Leonarde, the “ noble mother ” of the troupe, 
dressed all in black, like a Spanish duenna, was portly of 
figure, with a heavy, very pale face, double chin, and in- 
tensely black eyes, that had a crafty, slightly malicious 
expression. She had been upon the stage from her early 
childhood, passing through all the different phases, and 
was an actress of decided talent, often still winning en- 
thusiastic applause at the expense of younger and more 
attractive women, who were inclined to think her some- 
thing of an old sorceress. 

So much for the feminine element. The principal roles 
were all represented ; and if occasionally a reinforce- 
ment was required, they could almost always pick up 
some provincial actress, or even an amateur, at a pinch. 
The actors were five in number : The pedant, already 
described, who rejoiced in the name of Blazius ; Leander ; 
H^rode, the tragic tyrant ; Matamore, the bully ; and 
Scapin, the intriguing valet. 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


27 


Leander, the romantic, irresistible, young lover — dar- 
ling of the ladies — was a tall, fine-looking fellow of about 
thirty, though apparently much more youthful, thanks to 
the assiduous care he bestowed on his handsome person. 
His slightly curly, black hair was worn long, so that he 
might often have occasion to push it back from his fore- 
head, with a hand as white and delicate as a woman’s, 
upon one of whose taper fingers sparkled an enormous 
diamond — a great deal too big to be real. He was rather 
fancifully dressed, and always falling into such graceful, 
languishing attitudes as he thought would be admired by 
the fair sex, whose devoted slave he was. This Adonis 
never for one moment laid aside his role. He punctuated 
his sentences with sighs, even when speaking of the most 
indifferent matters, and assumed all sorts of preposterous 
airs and graces, to the secret amusement of his compan- 
ions. But he had great success among the ladies, who all 
flattered him and declared he was charming, until they 
had turned his head completely ; and it was his firm be- 
lief that he was irresistibly fascinating. 

The tyrant was the most good-natured, easy-going 
creature imaginable ; but, strangely enough, gifted by 
nature with all the external signs of ferocity. With his 
tall, burly frame, very dark skin, immensely thick, shaggy 
eyebrows, black as jet, crinkly, bushy hair of the same 
hue, and long beard, that grew far up on his cheeks, he 
was a very formidable, fierce-looking fellow ; and, when 
he spoke his loud, deep voice made everything ring 
again. He affected great dignity, and filled his role to 
perfection. 

Matamore was as different as possible, painfully thin— 
scarcely more than mere skin and bones — a living skele- 
ton, with a large hooked nose, set in a long, narrow face. 


28 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


a huge moustache turned up at the ends, and flashing, 
black eyes. His excessively tall, lank figure was so 
emaciated that it was like a caricature of a man. The 
swaggering air suitable to his part had become habitual 
with him, and he walked always with immense strides, 
head well thrown back, and hand on the pommel of the 
huge sword he was never seen without. 

As to Scapin, he looked more like a fox than anything 
else, and had a most villainous countenance • yet he was 
a good enough fellow in reality. 

The painter has a great advantage over the writer, in 
that he can so present the group on his canvas that one 
glance suffices to take in the whole picture, with the 
lights and shadows, attitudes, costumes, and details of 
every kind, which are sadly wanting in our description — 
too long, though so imperfect — of the party gathered thus 
unexpectedly round our young baron’s table. The be- 
ginning of the repast was very silent, until the most urgent 
demands of hunger had been satisfied. Poor de Sigognac, 
who had never perhaps at any one time had as much to eat 
as he wanted since he was weaned, attacked the tempting 
viands with an appetite and ardor quite new to him ; and 
that too despite his great desire to appear interesting 
and romantic in the eyes of the beautiful young women 
between whom he was seated. The pedant, very much 
amused at the boyish eagerness and enjoyment of his 
youthful host quietly heaped choice bits upon his plate, 
and watched their rapid disappearance with beaming sat- 
isfaction. Beelzebub had at last plucked up courage 
and crept softly under the table to his master, making his 
presence known by a quick tapping with his forepaws 
upon the baron’s knees ; his claims were at once recog- 
nized, and he feasted to his heart’s content on the savory 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


29 


morsels quietly thrown down to him. Poor old Miraut, 
who had followed Pierre into the room, was not neglected 
either, and had his full share of the good things that 
found their way to his master’s plate. 

By this time there was a good deal of laughing and 
talking round the festive board. The baron, though 
very timid, and much embarrassed, had ventured to 
enter into conversation with his fair neighbors. The 
pedant and the tyrant were loudly discussing the respect- 
ive merits of tragedy and comedy. Leander, like Nar-. 
cissus of old, was complacently admiring his own charms 
as reflected in a little pocket mirror he always had about 
him. Strange to say he was not a suitor of either Sera- 
fina’s or Isabelle’s ; fortunately for them he aimed higher, 
and was always hoping that some grand lady, who saw 
him on the stage, would fall violently in love with him, 
and shower all sorts of favors upon him. He was in the 
habit of boasting that he had had many delightful adven- 
tures of the kind, which Scapin persistently denied, declar- 
ing that to his certain knowledge they had never taken 
place, save in the aspiring lover’s own vivid imagination. 
The exasperating valet, malicious as a monkey, took the 
greatest delight in tormenting poor Leander, and never 
lost an opportunity ; so now, seeing him absorbed in self- 
admiration, he immediately attacked him, and soon had 
made him furious. The quarrel grew loud and violent, 
and Leander was heard declaring that he could produce 
a large chest crammed full of love letters, written to him 
by various high and titled ladies ; whereupon everybody 
laughed uproariously, whilst Serafina said to de Sigognac 
that she for one did not admire their taste, and Isabelle 
silently looked her disgust. The baron meantime was 
more and more charmed with this sweet, dainty young 


30 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


girl, and though he was too shy to address any high- 
flown compliments to her, according to the fashion of the 
day, his eyes spoke eloquently for him. She was not at 
all displeased at his ardent glances, and smiled radiantly 
and encouragingly upon him, thereby unconsciously 
making poor Matamore, who was secretly enamored of 
her, desperately unhappy, though he well knew that his 
passion was an utterly hopeless one. A more skilful 
and audacious lover would have pushed his advantage, 
but our poor young hero had not learned courtly man- 
ners nor assurance in his isolated chateau, and, though 
he lacked neither wit nor learning, it must be confessed 
that at this moment he did appear lamentably stupid. 

All the bottles having been scrupulously emptied, the 
pedant turned the last one of the half dozen upside 
down, so that every drop might run out ; which signifi- 
cant action was noted and understood by Matamore, 
who lost no time in bringing in a fresh supply from the 
chariot. The baron began to feel the wine a little in his 
head, being entirely unaccustomed to it, yet he could not 
resist drinking once again to the health of the ladies. 
The pedant and the tyrant drank like old topers, who 
can absorb any amount of liquor — be it wine, or some- 
thing stronger — without becoming actually intoxicated. 
Matamore was very abstemious, both in eating and 
drinking, and could have lived like the impoverished 
Spanish hidalgo, who dines on three olives and sups on 
an air upon his mandoline. There was a reason for his 
extreme frugality ; he feared that if he ate and drank 
like other people he might lose his phenomenal thinness, 
which was of inestimable value to him in a professional 
point of view. If he should be so unfortunate as to gain 
flesh, his attractions would diminish in an inverse ratio, so 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


31 


he starved himself almost to death, and was constantly- 
seen anxiously examining the buckle of his belt, to make 
sure that he had not increased in girth since his last 
meal. Voluntary Tantalus, he scarcely allowed himself 
enough to keep life in his attenuated frame, and if he had 
but fasted as carefully from motives of piety he would 
have been a full-fledged saint. 

The portly duenna disposed of solids and fluids perse- 
veringly, and in formidable quantities, seeming to have 
an unlimited capacity ; but Isabelle and Serafina had 
finished their supper long ago, and were yawning wearily 
behind their pretty, outspread hands, having no fans 
. within reach to conceal these pronounced symptoms of 
sleepiness. 

The baron, becoming aware of this state of things, 
said to them, “ Mesdemoiselles, I perceive that you are 
very weary, and I wish with all my heart that I could offer 
you each a luxurious bed-chamber ; but my house, like 
my family, has fallen into decay, and I can only give to 
you and Madame my own room. Fortunately the bed is 
very large, and you must make yourselves as c6mfort- 
able as you can — for a single night you will not mind. 
As to the gentlemen, I must ask them to remain here 
with me, and try to sleep in the arm-chairs before the 
fire. I pray you, ladies, do not allow yourselves to be 
startled by the waving of the tapestry — which is only 
due to the strong draughts about the room on a stormy 
night like this — the moaning of the wind in the chimney, 
or the wild skurrying and squeaking of the mice behind 
the wainscot. I can guarantee that no ghosts will dis- 
turb you here, though this place does look dreary and 
dismal enough to be haunted.” 

“ I am not a bit of a coward,” answered Serafina laugh- 


32 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


ingly, ‘‘ and will do my best to reassure this timid little 
Isabelle. As to our duenna, she is something of a sor- 
ceress herself, and if the devil in person should make his 
appearance he would meet his match in her.” 

The baron then took a light in his hand and showed 
the three ladies the way into the bed-chamber, which 
certainly did strike them rather unpleasantly at first sight, 
and looked very eerie in the dim, flickering light of the 
one small lamp. 

“ What a capital scene it would make for the fifth act 
of a tragedy,” said Serafina, as she looked curiously about 
her, whilst poor little Isabelle shivered with cold and 
terror. They all crept into bed without undressing, Isa- 
belle begging to lie between Serafina and Madame Leo- 
narde, for she felt nervous and frightened. The other two 
fell asleep at once, but the timid young girl lay long 
awake, gazing with wide-open, straining eyes at the door 
that led into the shut-up apartments beyond, as if she 
dreaded its opening to admit some unknown horror. But 
it remained fast shut, and though all sorts of mysterious 
noises ‘made her poor little heart flutter painfully, her 
eyelids, closed at last, and she forgot her weariness and 
her fears in profound slumber. 

In the other room the pedant slept soundly, with his 
head on the table, and the tyrant opposite to him snored 
like a giant. Matamore had rolled himself up in a cloak 
and made himself as comfortable as possible under the 
circumstances in a large arm-chair, with his long, thin 
legs extended at full length, and his feet on the fender. 
Leander slept sitting bolt upright, so as not to disarrange 
his carefully brushed hair, and de Sigognac, who had 
taken possession of a vacant arm-chair, was too much 
agitated and excited by the events of the evening to be 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


33 


able to close his eyes. The coming of two beautiful, 
young women thus suddenly into his life— which had 
been hitherto so isolated, sad and dreary, entirely devoid 
of all the usual pursuits and pleasures of youth — could 
not fail to rouse him from his habitual apathy, and set 
his pulses beating after a new fashion. Incredible as it 
may seem yet it was quite true that our young hero had 
never had a single love affair. He was too proud, as we 
have already said, to take his rightful place among 
his equals, without any of the appurtenances suitable to 
his rank, and also too proud to associate familiarly with 
the surrounding peasantry, who accorded him as much 
respect in his poverty as they had ever shown to his an- 
cestors in their prosperity. He had no near relatives to 
come to his assistance, and so lived on, neglected and 
forgotten, in his crumbling chateau, with nothing to look 
forward to or hope for. In the course of his solitary 
wanderings he had several times chanced to encounter 
the young and beautiful Yolande de Foix, following the 
hounds on her snow-white palfrey, in company with her 
father and a number of the young noblemen of the neigh- 
borhood. This dazzling vision of beauty often haunted 
his dreams, but what possible relations could there ever be 
hoped for between the rich, courted heiress, whose suitors 
were legion, and his own poverty-stricken self ? Far from 
seeking to attract her attention, he always got out of her 
sight as quickly as possible, lest his ill-fitting, shabby 
garments and miserable old pony should excite a laugh 
at his expense ; for he was very sensitive, this poor young 
nobleman, and could not have borne the least approach 
to ridicule from the fair object of his secret and passion- 
ate admiration. He had tried his utmost to stifle the 
ardent emotions that filled his heart whenever his 


34 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


thougnts strayed to the beautiful Yolande, realizing how 
far above his reach she was, and he believed that he had 
succeeded ; though there were times even yet when it all 
rushed back upon him with overwhelming force, like a 
huge tidal wave that sweeps everything before it. 

The night passed quietly at the chateau, without other 
incident than the fright of poor Isabelle, when Beelzebub, 
who had climbed up on the bed, as was his frequent cus- 
tom, established himself comfortably upon her bosom ; 
finding it a deliciously soft, warm resting-place, and ob- 
stinately resisting her frantic efforts to drive him away. 

As to de Sigognac, he did not once close his eyes. A 
vague project was gradually shaping itself in his mind, 
keeping him wakeful and perplexed. The advent of 
these strolling comedians appeared to him like a stroke 
of fate — an ambassador of fortune, to invite him to go 
out into the great world, away from this old feudal ruin, 
where his youth was passing in misery and inaction — to 
quit this dreary shade, and emerge into the light and life 
of the outer world. 

At last the gray light of the dawn came creeping in 
through the lattice windows, speedily followed by the 
first bright rays from the rising sun. The storm was over, 
and the glorious god of day rose triumphant in a perfectly 
clear sky. It was a strange group that he peeped in 
upon, where the old family portraits seemed looking down 
with haughty contempt upon the slumbering invaders of 
their dignified solitude. The soubrette was the first to 
awake, starting up as a warm sunbeam shone caressingly 
full upon her face. She sprang to her feet, shook out 
her skirts, as a bird does its plumage, passed the palms 
of her hands lightly over her glossy bands of jet-black 
hair, and then seeing that the baron was quietly observ- 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


35 


ing her, with eyes that showed no trace of drowsiness, she 
smiled radiantly upon him as she made a low and most 
graceful curtsey. 

“ I am very sorry,” said de Sigognac, as he rose to ac- 
knowledge her salute, “ that the ruinous condition of this 
chateau, which verily seems better fitted to receive phan- 
toms than real living guests, would not permit me to offer 
you more comfortable accommodations. If I had been 
able to follow my inclinations, I should have lodged you 
in a luxurious chamber, where you could have reposed 
between fine linen sheets, under silken curtains, instead 
of resting uneasily in that worm-eaten old chair.” 

“Do not be sorry about anything, my lord, I pray 
you,” answered the soubrette with another brilliant smile ; 
“ but for your kindness we should have been in far worse 
plight ; forced to pass the night in the poor old chariot, 
stuck fast in the mud ; exposed to the cutting wind and 
pelting rain. We should assuredly have found ourselves 
in wretched case this morning. Besides, this chateau 
which you speak of so disparagingly is magnificence 
itself in comparison with the miserable barns, open to 
the weather, in which we have sometimes been forced to 
spend the night, trying to sleep as best we might on 
bundles of straw, and making light of our misery to keep 
our courage up.” 

Whilst the baron and the actress were exchanging 
civilities the pedant’s chair, unable to support his weight 
any longer, suddenly gave way under him, and he fell to 
the floor with a tremendous crash, which startled the 
whole company. In his fall he had mechanically seized 
hold of the table-cloth, and so brought nearly all the 
things upon it clattering down with him. He lay sprawl- 
ing like a huge turtle in the midst of them until the 


36 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE, 


tyrant, after rubbing his eyes and stretching his burly 
limbs, came to the rescue, and held out a helping hand, 
by aid of which the old actor managed with some diffi- 
culty to scramble to his feet. 

“ Such an accident as that could never happen to 
Matamore,” said Herode, with his resounding laugh ; 
“he might fall into a spider’s web without breaking 
through it.” 

“ That’s true,” retorted the shadow of a man, in his 
turn stretching his long attenuated limbs and yawning 
tremendously, “but then, you know, not everybody has 
the advantage of being a second Polyphemus, a moun- 
tain of flesh and bones, like you, or a big wine-barrel, 
like our friend Blazius there.” 

All this commotion had aroused Isabelle, Serafina and 
the duenna, who presently made their appearance. The 
two younger women, though a little pale and weary, yet 
looked very charming in the bright morning light. In 
de Sigognac’s eyes they appeared radiant, in spite of the 
shabbiness of their finery, which was far more apparent 
now than on the preceding evening. But what signify 
faded ribbons and dingy gowns when the wearers are 
fresh, young and beautiful ? Besides, the baron’s eyes 
were so accustomed to dinginess that they were not 
capable of detecting such slight defects in the toilets of 
his fair guests, and he gazed with delight upon these 
bewitching creatures, enraptured with their grace and 
beauty. As to the duenna, she was both old and ugly, 
and had long ago accepted the inevitable with com- 
mendable resignation. 

As the ladies entered by one door, Pierre came in by 
the other, bringing more wood for the fire, and then pro- 
ceeding to make the disordered room as tidy as he 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


37 


could. All the company now gathered round the cheer- 
ful blaze that was roaring up the chimney and sending 
out a warm glow that was an irresistible attraction in the 
chill of the early morning. Isabelle knelt down and 
stretched out the rosy palms of her pretty little hands as 
near to the flames as she dared, whilst Serafina stood 
behind and laid her hands caressingly on her shoulders, 
like an elder sister taking tender care of a younger one. 
Matamore stood on one leg like a huge heron, leaning 
against the corner of the carved chimney-piece, and 
seemed inclined to fall asleep again, whilst the pedant 
was vainly searching for a swallow of wine among the 
empty bottles. 

The baron meantime had held a hurried private con- 
sultation with Pierre as to the possibility of procuring a 
few eggs, or a fowl or two, at the nearest hamlet, so that 
he might give the travellers something to eat before their 
departure, and he bade the old servant be quick about 
it, for the chariot was to make an early start, as they had 
a long day’s journey before them. 

I cannot let you go away fasting, though you will 
have rather a scanty breakfast I fear,” he said to his 
guests, “ but it is better to have a poor one than none at 
all ; and there is not an inn within six leagues of this 
where you could be sure of getting anything to eat. I 
will not make further apologies, for the condition of 
everything in this house shows you plainly enough that 
I am not rich ; but as my poverty is mainly owing to 
the great expenditures made by my honored ancestors 
in many wars for the defence of king and country, I do 
not need to be ashamed of it.” 

“ No indeed, my lord,” answered Herode in his deep, 
bass voice, “ and many there be in these degenerate days 


38 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


who hold their heads very high because of their riches, 
who would not like to have to confess how they came in 
possession of them.” 

“What astonishes me,” interrupted Blazius, “is that 
such an accomplished young gentleman as your lordship 
seems to be should be willing to remain here in this 
isolated spot, where Fortune cannot reach you even if 
she would. You ought to go to Paris, the great capital 
of the world, the rendezvous of brave and learned men, 
the El Dorado, the promised land, the Paradise of all true 
Frenchmen. There you would be sure to make your 
way, either in attaching yourself to the household of 
some great nobleman, a friend of your family, or in per- 
forming some brilliant deed of valor, the opportunity for 
which will not be long to find.” 

These words, although rather high-flown, were not de- 
void of sense, and de Sigognac could not help secretly 
admitting that there was some truth in them. He had 
often, during his long rambles over the desolate Landes, 
thought wishfully of undertaking what the pedant had 
just proposed ; but he had not money enough for the 
journey even, and he did not know where to look for 
more. Though brave and high-spirited, he was very 
sensitive, and feared a smile of derision more than a 
sword-thrust. He was not familiar with the prevailing 
fashions in dress, but he felt that his antiquated costume 
was ridiculous as well as shabby, and sure to be laughed 
at anywhere but among his own simple peasantry. Like 
most of those who are disheartened and crushed by ex- 
treme poverty, he only looked at the dark side of things, 
and made no allowance for any possible advantages. 
Perhaps he might have been delicately as well as gener- 
ously assisted by some of his father’s old friends if he 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


39 


would only have let them know of his situation, but his 
pride held him back, and he would have died of starva- 
tion rather than ask for aid in any form. 

“ I used to think sometimes of going to Paris,” he an- 
swered slowly, after some hesitation, “but I have no 
friends or even acquaintances there ; and the descend- 
ants of those who perhaps knew my ancestors when they 
were rich and powerful, and in favor at court, could 
scarcely be expected to welcome a poverty-stricken 
Baron de Sigognac, who came swooping down from his 
ruined tower to try and snatch a share of any prey that 
chanced to lie within reach of his talons. And besides — 
I do not know why I should be ashamed to acknowledge 
it — I have not any of the appurtenances suitable to my 
rank, and could not present myself upon a footing worthy 
of my name. I doubt if I have even money enough for 
the expenses of the journey alone, and that in the hum- 
blest fashion.” 

“ But it is not necessary,” Blazius hastened to reply, 
“ that you should make a state entry into the capital, like 
a Roman emperor, in a gilded chariot drawn by four 
white horses abreast. If our humble equipage does not 
appear too unworthy to your lordship, come with us to 
Paris ; we are on our way there now. Many a man 
shines there to-day in brave apparel, and enjoys high 
favor at court, who travelled thither on foot, carrying his 
little bundle over his shoulder, swung on the point of his 
rapier, and his shoes in his hand, for fear of wearing 
them out on the way.” 

A slight flush, partly of shame, partly of pleasure, rose 
to de Sigognac’s cheek at this speech. If on the one 
side his pride revolted at the idea of being under an ob- 
ligation to such a person as the pedant, on the other he 


40 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


was touched and gratified by this kind proposition so 
frankly made, and which, moreover, accorded so well 
with his own secret desires. He feared also that if he 
refused the actor’s kindly-meant offer he would wound 
his feelings, and perhaps miss an opportunity that would 
never be afforded to him again. It is true that the idea 
of a descendant of the noble old house of Sigognac trav- 
elling in the chariot of a band of strolling players, and 
making common cause with them, was rather shocking at 
first sight, but surely it would be better than to go on 
any longer leading his miserable, hopeless life in this dis- 
mal, deserted place. He wavered between those two 
decisive little monosyllables, yes and no, and could by no 
means reach a satisfactory conclusion, when Isabelle, 
who had been watching the colloquy with breathless in- 
terest, advanced smilingly to where he was standing 
somewhat apart with Blazius, and addressed the follow- 
ing words to him, which speedily put an end to all his 
uncertainty : 

“ Our poet, having fallen heir to a fortune, has lately 
left us, and his lordship would perhaps be good enough 
to take his place. I found accidentally, in opening a vol- 
ume of Ronsard’s poems that lay upon the table in his 
room, a piece of paper with a sonnet written upon it, 
which must be of his composition, and proves him not 
unaccustomed to writing in verse. He could rearrange 
our parts for us, make the necessary alterations and ad- 
ditions in the new plays we undertake, and even perhaps 
write a piece for us now and then. I have now a very 
pretty little Italian comedy by me, which, with some 
slight modifications, would suit us nicely, and has a 
really charming part for me.” 

With her last words, accompanied though they were 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


41 


with a smile, she gave the baron such a sweet, wistful 
look that he could no longer resist ; but the appearance 
of Pierre at this moment with a large omelette created a 
diversion, and interrupted this interesting conversation. 
They all immediately gathered round the table, and at- 
tacked the really good breakfast, which the old servant 
had somehow managed to put before them, with great 
zest. As to de Sigognac, he kept them company merely 
out of politeness, and trifled with what was on his plate 
whilst the others were eating, having partaken too heart- 
ily of the supper the night before to be hungry now, and, 
besides, being so much preoccupied with weightier mat- 
ters that he was not able to pay much attention to this. 

After the meal was finished, and while the chariot was 
being made ready for a start, Isabelle and Serafina ex- 
pressed a desire to go into the garden, which they looked 
down upon from the court. 

“I am afraid,” said de Sigognac, as he aided them to 
descend the unsteady, slippery stone steps, “ that the 
briers will make sad work with your dresses, for thorns 
abound in my neglected garden, though roses do not.” 

The young baron said this in the sad, ironical tone he 
usually adopted when alluding to his poverty ; but a 
moment after they suddenly came upon two exquisite 
little wild roses, blooming directly in their path. With 
an exclamation of surprise de Sigognac gathered them, 
and as he offered one to each lady, said, with a smile, “ I 
did not know there was anything of this sort here, having 
never found aught but rank weeds and brambles before ; 
it is your gracious presence that has brought forth these 
two blossoms in the midst of ruin and desolation.” 

Isabelle put her little rose carefully in the bosom of 
her dress, giving him her thanks mutely by an eloquent 


42 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


glance, which spoke more perhaps than she knew, and 
brought a flush of pleasure to his cheeks. They walked 
on to the statue in its rocky niche at the end of the gar- 
den, de Sigognac carefully bending back the branches 
that obstructed the way. The young girl looked round 
with a sort of tender interest at this overgrown, neglected 
spot, so thoroughly in keeping with the ruined chateau 
that frowned down upon them, and thought pityingly of 
the long, dreary hours that the poor baron must have 
spent here in solitude and despair. Serafina’s face 
only expressed a cold disdain, but slightly masked by 
politeness. To her mind the ruinous condition of things 
was anything but interesting, and though she dearly 
loved a title she had still greater respect for wealth and 
magnificence. 

“ My domain ends here,” said the baron, as they 
reached the grotto of the statue, “though formerly all 
the surrounding country, as far as the eye can reach from 
the top of that high tower yonder, belonged to my an- 
cestors. But barely enough remains now to afford me a 
shelter until the day comes when the last of the de Sigo- 
gnacs shall be laid to rest amid his forefathers in the 
family vault, thenceforward their sole possession.” 

“ Do you know you are very much out of spirits this 
morning?” said Isabelle in reply, touched by the ex- 
pression of this sad thought that had occurred to her 
also, and assuming a bright, playful air, in the hope that 
it might help to chase away the heavy shadow that lay 
upon her young host’s brow. “ Fortune is blind, they 
say, but nevertheless she does sometimes shower her 
good gifts upon the worthy and the brave ; the only 
thing is that they must put themselves in her way. Come, 
decide to go with us, and perhaps in a few years the Cha- 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


43 


teau de Sigognac, restored to its ancient splendor, may 
loom up as proudly as of old ; think of that, my lord, 
and take courage to quit it for a time. And besides,” 
she added in a lower tone that only de Sigognac could 
hear, “ I cannot bear to go away and leave you here 
alone in this dreary place.” 

The soft light that shone in Isabelle’s beautiful eyes as 
she murmured these persuasive words was irresistible to 
the man who already loved her madly ; and the idea of 
following his divinity in a humble disguise, as many a 
noble knight had done of old, reconciled him to what 
would otherwise have seemed too incongruous and hu- 
miliating. It could not be considered derogatory to any 
gentleman to accompany his lady-love, be she what she 
might, actress or princess, and to attach himself, for love 
of her bright eyes, to even a band of strolling players. 
The mischievous little boy of the bow had compelled 
even gods and heroes to submit to all sorts of odd tests 
and means. Jupiter himself took the form of a bull to 
carry off Europa, and swam across the sea with her upon 
his back to the island of Crete. Hercules, dressed as a 
woman, sat spinning meekly at Omphale’s feet. Even 
Aristotle went upon all fours that his mistress might ride 
on his back. What wonder then that our youthful baron 
thought that nothing could be too difficult or repulsive 
in the service of the lovely being at his side ! So he de- 
cided at once not to let her leave him behind, and beg- 
ging the comedians to wait a few moments while he made 
his hurried preparations, drew Pierre aside and told him 
in few words of his new project. The faithful old ser- 
vant, although nearly heart-broken at the thought of 
parting with his beloved master, fully realized how 
greatly it would be to his advantage to quit the dreary 


44 


CAPTAIN FPAC4SSE. 


life that was blighting his youth, and go out into the 
world ; and whilst he felt keenly the incongruity of such 
fellow travellers for a de Sigognac, yet wisely thought 
that it was better for him to go thus than not at all. He 
quickly filled an old valise with the few articles of cloth- 
ing that formed the baron’s scanty wardrobe, and put 
into a leathern purse the little money he still possessed ; 
secretly adding thereto his own small hoard, which he 
could safely do without fear of detection, as he had the 
care of the family finances, as well as everything else 
about the establishment. The old white pony was 
brought out and saddled, for de Sigognac did not wish 
to get into the chariot until they had gone some distance 
from home, not caring to make his departure public. He 
would seem thus to be only accompanying his guests a 
little way upon their journey — and Pierre was to follow 
on foot to lead the horse back home. 

The oxen, great slow-moving, majestic creatures, were 
already harnessed to the heavy chariot, whilst their 
driver, a tall, sturdy peasant lad, standing in front of 
them leaning upon his goad, had unconsciously assumed 
an attitude so graceful that he closely resembled the 
sculptured figures in ancient Greek bas-reliefs. Isabelle 
and Serafina had seated themselves in the front of the 
chariot, so that they could enjoy the fresh, cool air, and 
see the country as they passed along ; whilst the others 
bestowed themselves inside, where they might indulge in 
a morning nap. At last all were ready ; the driver gave 
the word of command, and the oxen stepped slowly for- 
ward, setting in motion the great unwieldy, lumbering 
vehicle, which creaked and groaned in lamentable fashion, 
making the vaulted portico ring again as it passed through 
it and out of the chateau. 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


45 


In the midst of all this unwonted commotion, Beelzebub 
and Miraut moved restlessly about the court, evidently 
very much perplexed as to what could be the meaning of 
it. The old dog ran back and forth from his master, who 
always had a caress for him, to Pierre, looking up into 
their faces with questioning, anxious eyes, and Beelze- 
bub finally went and held a consultation with his good 
friend, the old white pony, now standing with saddle and 
bridle on, quietly awaiting his master’s pleasure. He 
bent down his head so that his lips almost touched Beel- 
zebub, and really appeared to be whispering something to 
him ; which the cat in his turn imparted to Miraut, in 
that mysterious language of animals which Democritus 
claimed that he understood, but which we are not able 
to translate. Whatever it might have been that Bayard, 
the old pony, communicated to Beelzebub, one thing is 
certain, that when at last the baron vaulted into his saddle 
and sallied forth from his ancient castle, he was accom- 
panied by both cat and dog. Now, though it was no un- 
common thing for Miraut to follow him abroad, Beelzebub 
had never been known to attempt such a feat before. 

As he rode slowly out through the grand old portico 
de Sigognac felt his heart heavy within him, and when, 
after going a few paces from the chateau, he turned round 
for one last look at its crumbling walls, he felt an acute 
grief at bidding them farewell which was an astonish- 
ment to himself. As his eyes sought and dwelt upon the 
roof of the little chapel where his father and mother lay 
sleeping side by side, he almost reproached ^ himself for 
wishing to go and leave them, and it required a mighty 
effort to turn away and ride after the chariot, which was 
some distance in advance of him. He had soor\ over- 
taken and passed it, when a gentle gust of wind brought 


46 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


to him the penetrating, faintly aromatic scent of his native 
heather, still wet from last night’s rain, and also the sil- 
very sound of a distant convent bell that was associated 
with his earliest recollections. They both seemed to be 
reproaching him for his desertion of his home, and he 
involuntarily checked the old pony, and made as if he 
would turn back. Miraut and Beelzebub, seeming to 
understand the movement, looked up at him eagerly, 
but as he was in the very act of turning- the horse’s head 
he met Isabelle’s soft eyes fixed on him with such an en- 
treating, wistful look that he flushed and trembled under 
it, and entirely forgetting his ancient chateau, the per- 
fume of the heather, and the quick strokes of the distant 
bell, that still continued ringing, he put spurs to his horse 
and dashed on in advance again. The struggle was over 
—Isabelle had conquered. 

When the highway was reached, de Sigognac again fell 
behind the chariot — which moved more quickly over 
the smooth, hard road — so that Pierre might be able to 
catch up to him, and rode slowly forward, lost in thought ; 
he roused himself, however, in time to take one last look 
at the towers of Sigognac, which were still visible over the 
tops of the pine trees. Bayard came to a full stop as he 
gazed, and Miraut took advantage of the pause to endeavor 
to climb up and lick his master’s face once more ; but he 
was so old and stiff that de Sigognac had to lift him up 
in front of him ; holding him there he tenderly caressed 
the faithful companion of many sad, lonely years, even 
bending down and kissing him between the eyes. Mean- 
time the more agile Beelzebub had scrambled up on the 
other side, springing from the ground to the baron’s foot, 
and then climbing up by his leg ; he purred loudly as his 
master affectionately stroked his head, looking up in his 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


47 


face as if he understood perfectly that this was a leave- 
taking. We trust that the kind reader will not laugh at 
our poor young hero, when we say that he was so deeply 
touched by these evidences of affection from his humble 
followers that two great tears rolled down his pale cheeks 
and fell upon the heads of his dumb favorites, before he 
put them gently from him and resumed his journey. 

Miraut and Beelzebub stood where he had put them 
down, looking after their beloved master until a turn in 
the road hid him from their sight, and then quietly re- 
turned to the chateau together. The rain of the previous 
night had left no traces in the sandy expanse of the 
Landes, save that it had freshened up the heather with 
its tiny purple bells, and the furze bushes with their bright 
yellow blossoms. The very pine trees themselves looked 
less dark and mournful than usual, and their penetrating, 
resinous odor filled the fresh morning air. Here and there 
a little column of smoke rising from amid a grove of 
chestnut trees betrayed the homestead of some farmer, 
and scattered over the gently rolling plain, that extended 
as far as the eye could reach, great flocks of sheep could 
be discerned, carefully guarded by shepherd and dog ; 
the former mounted on stilts, and looking very odd to 
those unaccustomed to the shepherds of the Landes. On 
the southern horizon the snow-clad tops of the more lofty 
peaks of the Pyrenees rose boldly into the clear sky, with 
light wreaths of mist still clinging round them here and 
there. 

Oxen travel slowly, especially over roads where at times 
the wheels sink deep into the sand, and the sun was high 
above the horizon before they had gone two leagues on 
their way. The baron, loath to fatigue his old servant 
and poor Bayard, determined to bid adieu to them with- 


48 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE- 


out further delay ; so he sprang lightly to the ground, 
put the bridle into Pierre’s trembling hand, and affection- 
ately stroked the old pony’s neck, as he never failed to 
do when he dismounted. It was a painful moment. The 
faithful servant had taken care of his young master from 
his infancy, and he turned very pale as he said in falter- 
ing tones, “ God bless and keep your lordship ! how I 
wish that I could go with you.” 

“ And so do I, my good Pierre, but that is impossible. 
You must stay and take care of the chateau for me ; I 
could not bear to think of it entirely abandoned, or in 
any other hands than yours, my faithful friend ! And 
besides, what would become of Bayard and Miraut and 
Beelzebub, if you too deserted them ? ” 

“You are right, master,” answered Pierre, his eyes 
filling with tears as he bade him farewell before he turned 
and led Bayard slowly back by the road they had come. 
The old pony whinnied loudly as he left his master, and 
long after he was out of sight could be heard at short 
intervals calling out his adieux. 

The poor young baron, left quite alone, stood for a 
moment with downcast eyes, feeling very desolate and 
sad ; then roused himself with an effort, and hastened 
after the chariot. As he walked along beside it with a 
sorrowful, preoccupied air, Isabelle complained of being 
tired of her somewhat cramped position, and said that 
she would like to get down and walk a little way for a 
change ; her real motive being a kind wish to endeavor 
to cheer up poor de Sigognac and make him forget his 
sad thoughts. The shadow that had overspread his 
countenance passed away entirely as he assisted Isabelle 
to alight, and then offering his arm led her on in ad- 
vance of the lumbering chariot. They had walked some 
distance, and she was just reciting some verses, from one 


THE CHARIOT OF THESPIS. 


49 


of her parts, which she wished to have altered a little- 
when the sound of a horn close at hand startled them, 
and from a by-path emerged a gay party returning from 
the chase. The beautiful Yolande de Foix cartie first, 
radiant as Diana, with a brilliant color in her cheeks and 
eyes that shone like stars. Several long rents in the vel- 
vet skirt of her riding habit showed that she had been 
following the hounds through the thickets of furze that 
abound in the Landes, yet she did not look in the least 
fatigued, and as she came forward made her spirited 
horse fret and prance under quick, light strokes of her 
riding- whip — in whose handle shone a magnificent ame- 
thyst set in massive gold, and engraved with the de Foix 
arms. Three or four young noblemen, splendidly dressed 
and mounted, were with her, and as she swept proudly 
past our hero and his fair companion — upon whom 
she cast a glance of haughty disdain — she said in clear 
ringing tones, “ Do look at the Baron de Sigognac, danc- 
ing attendance upon a Bohemienne." And the little com- 
pany passed on with a shout of laughter. 

The poor baron was furious, and instinctively grasped 
the handle of his sword with a quick, angry movement ; 
but as quickly released it — for he was on foot and those 
who had insulted him were on horseback, so that he 
could not hope to overtake them ; and besides, he could 
not challenge a lady. But the angry flush soon faded 
from his cheek, and the remembrance of his displeasure 
from his mind, under the gentle influence of Isabelle, who 
put forth all her powers of fascination to make her com- 
panion forget the affront he had received because of her. 

The day passed without any other incident worthy of 
being recorded, and our travellers arrived in good season 
at the inn where they were to sup and sleep. 

3 


CHAPTER III. 


THE BLUE SUN INN. 

It was in front of the largest house in a wretched little 
hamlet that the weary oxen drawing the chariot of Thes- 
pis stopped of their own accord. The wooden sign that 
creaked distractingly as it swung to and fro at every 
breath of wind bore a large, blue sun, darting its rays, 
after the most approved fashion, to the utmost dimen- 
sions of the board on which it was painted. Rather an 
original idea, one would say, to have a blue orb of day 
instead of a golden one — such as adorned so many other 
inns on the great post-road — but originality had had 
nothing whatever to do with it. The wandering painter 
who produced this remarkable work of art happened 
to have no vestige of any color but blue left upon his 
palette, and he discoursed so eloquently of the superiority 
of this tint to all others that he succeeded in persuading 
the worthy inn-keeper to have an azure sun depicted on 
his swinging sign. And not this one alone had yielded 
to his specious arguments, for he had painted blue lions, 
blue cocks, blue horses, on various signs in the country 
round, in a manner that would have delighted the 
Chinese — who esteem an artist in proportion to the un- 
naturalness of his designs and coloring. 

The few scrawny, unwholesome looking children feebly 
playing in the muddy, filthy, little street, and the pre- 
maturely old, ghastly women standing at the open doors 

50 


THE BLUE SUN INN. 


51 


of the miserable thatched huts of which the hamlet was 
composed, were but too evidently the wretched victims 
of a severe type of malarial fever that prevails in the 
Landes. They were truely piteous objects, and our 
travellers were glad to take refuge in the inn — though it 
was anything but inviting — and so get out of sight of them. 

The landlord, a villainous looking fellow, with an ugly 
crimson scar across his forehead, who rejoiced in the ex- 
traordinary name of Chirriguirri, received them with 
many low obeisances, and led the way into his house, 
talking volubly of the excellent accommodations to be 
found therein. 

The Baron de Sigognac hesitated ere he crossed the 
threshold, though the comedians had all drawn back re- 
spectfully to allow him to precede them. His pride 
revolted at going into such a place in such company, but 
one glance from Isabelle put everything else out of his 
head, and he entered the dirty little inn at her side with 
an air of joyful alacrity. In the happy kingdom of 
France the fortunate man who escorted a pretty woman, 
no matter where, needed not to fear ridicule or con- 
tumely, and was sure to be envied. 

The large low room into which Maitre Chirriguirri 
ushered the party, with much ceremony and many bows, 
was scarcely so magnificent as he had given them reason 
to expect, but our strolling players had long ago learned 
to take whatever came in their way without grumbling, 
and they seated themselves quietly on the rude wooden 
settles ranged round a rough, stone platform in the cen- 
tre of the apartment, upon which a few sticks of wood 
were blazing — the smoke escaping through an opening in 
the roof above. From an iron bar which crossed this 
opening a strong chain was suspended, and fastened to it 


52 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


was the crane, so that it hung at the proper height over 
the fire — for this was the kitchen as well as the reception 
room. The low ceiling was blackened with the smoke 
that filled the upper part of the room and escaped slowly 
through the hole over the fire, unless a puff of wind drove 
it back again. A row of bright copper casseroles hang- 
ing against the wall — like the burnished shields along the 
sides of the ancient triremes, if this comparison be not 
too noble for such a lowly subject — gleamed vaguely in 
the flashing of the red fire-light, and a large, half-empty 
wine-skin lying on the floor in one corner looked like a 
beheaded body carelessly flung down there. Certainly 
not a cheerful looking place, but the fire being newly re- 
plenished burnt brightly, and our weary travellers were 
glad to bask in its genial warmth. 

At the end of one of the wooden benches a little girl 
was sitting, apparently sound asleep. She was a poor, 
thin, little creature, with a mass of long, tangled, black 
hair, which hung down over her face and almost con- 
cealed it, as she sat with her head drooping forward on 
her breast. Her scanty clothing was tattered and dirty, 
her feet and poor, thin, little legs brown and bare, and 
covered with scratches — some still bleeding — ^^which bore 
witness to much running through the thorny furze 
thickets. 

Isabelle, who chanced to sit down near her, cast many 
pitying glances upon this forlorn little figure, but took 
care not to disturb the quiet sleep she seemed to be en- 
joying in her uncomfortable resting-place. After a little, 
when she had turned to speak to Serafina, who sat beside 
her, the child woke with a start, and pushing back the 
mass of dishevelled hair revealed a sad little face, so thin 
that the cheek bones were painfully prominent, and pale 


THE BLUE SUN INN. 


53 


to ghastliness. A pair of magnificent, dark brown eyes, 
with heavy sweeping lashes, looked preternaturally large 
in her woe-begone little countenance, and at this mo- 
ment were filled with wondering admiration, mingled 
with fierce covetousness, as she stared at Serafina’s mock 
jewels — and more especially at Isabelle’s row of pearl 
beads. She seemed fairly dazzled by these latter, and 
gazed at them fixedly in a sort of ecstasy — having evi- 
dently never seen anything like them before, and prob- 
ably thinking they must be of immense value. Occa- 
sionally her eyes wandered to the dresses of the two 
ladies, and at last, unable to restrain her ardent curiosity 
any longer, she put out her little brown hand and softly 
felt of Isabelle’s gown, apparently finding exquisite de- 
light in the mere contact of her finger-tips with the 
smooth, glossy surface of the silk. Though her touch 
-was so light Isabelle immediately turned towards the 
child and smiled upon her encouragingly, but the poor 
little vagabond, finding herself detected, in *an instant 
had assumed a stupid, almost idiotic look — with an in- 
stinctive amount of histrionic art that would have done 
honor to a finished actress. Then dropping her eyelids 
and leaning her shoulders against the hard back of the 
wooden settle she seemed to fall into a deep sleep, with 
her head bent down upon her breast in the old attitude. 

Meanwhile Maitre Chirriguirri . had been talking long 
and loudly about the choice delicacies he could have set 
before his guests if they had only come a day or two 
earlier, and enumerating all sorts of fine dishes — which 
doubtless had existed only in his own very vivid imagina- 
tion — though he told a high sounding story about the 
noblemen and grandees who had supped at his house 
and devoured all these dainties only yesterday. When 


54 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


at length the flow of his eloquence was checked by a 
display of ferocity on the part of the tyrant, and he was 
finally brought to the point, he acknowledged that he 
could only give them some of the soup called garhure — 
with which we have already made acquaintance at the 
Chateau de Sigognac — some salt codfish, and a dish of 
bacon ; with plenty of wine, which according to his 
account was fit for the gods. Our weary travellers were 
so hungry by this time that they were glad of even this 
frugal fare, and when Mionnette, a gaunt, morose looking 
creature, the only servant that the inn could boast, an- 
nounced that their supper was ready in an adjoining 
room, they did not wait to be summoned a second time. 

They were still at table when a great barking of dogs 
was heard without, together with the noise of horses’ 
feet, and in a moment three loud, impatient knocks upon 
the outer door resounded through the house. Mionnette 
rushed to open it, whereupon a gentleman entered, fol- 
lowed by a number of dogs, who nearly knocked the tall 
maid-servant over in their eagerness to get in, and rushed 
into the dining-room where our friends were assembled, 
barking, jumping over each other, and licking off the 
plates that had been used and removed to a low side 
table, before their master could stop them. A few sharp 
cuts with the whip he held in his hand distributed pro- 
miscuously among them, without distinction between the 
innocent and the guilty ones, quieted this uproar as if by 
magic, and the aggressive hounds, taking refuge under the 
benches ranged along the walls, curled themselves round 
on the floor and went comfortably to sleep, or lay pant- 
ing, with their red tongues hanging out of their mouths 
and heads reposing on their fore-paws — not daring to stir. 

The obstreperous dogs thus disposed of, the cavalier 


THE BLUE SUN INN 


55 


advanced into the room, with the calm assurance of a 
man who feels perfectly at his ease ; his spurs ringing 
against the stone floor at every step. The landlord fol- 
lowed him obsequiously, cap in hand, cringing and bow- 
ing in most humble fashion — having entirely laid aside 
his boasting air, and evidently feeling very ill at ease — 
this being a personage of whom he stood in awe. As 
the gentleman approached the table he politely saluted 
the company, before turning to give his orders to Maitre 
Chirriguirri, who stood silently awaiting them. 

The new-comer was a handsome man of about thirty, 
with curly light hair, and a fair complexion, somewhat 
i'eddened by exposure to the sun. His eyes were blue, 
and rather prominent, his nose slightly retrouss^ j his 
small blond moustache was carefully turned up at the 
ends, and scarcely shaded a well-formed but sensual 
mouth, below which was a small, pointed beard — called 
a royal in those days, an imperial in these. As he took 
off his broad felt hat, richly ornamented with long sweep- 
ing plumes, and threw it carelessly down on one of the 
benches, it was seen that his smooth, broad forehead 
was snowy white, and the contrast with his sunburnt 
cheeks was not by any means displeasing. Indeed it 
was a very handsome, attractive face, in which an ex- 
pression of frank gayety and good humor tempered the 
air of pride that pervaded it. 

The dress of this gay cavalier was extremely rich and 
elegant ; almost too much so for the country. But when 
we say that the marquis — for such was his title — had 
been following the hounds in company with the beauti- 
ful Yolande de Foix, we feel that his costume, of blue 
velvet elaborately decorated with silver braid, is fully 
accounted for. He was one of the gallants that shone 


56 


CAP TAW FRACASSE. 


at court, and in Paris — where he was in the habit of 
spending a large portion of every year — and he prided 
himself on being one of the best dressed noblemen in 
France. 

His order to the obsequious landlord was in few words 
— “ I want some broth for my dogs, some oats for my 
horses, a piece of bread and a slice of ham for myself, 
and something or other for my grooms ” — and then he 
advanced smilingly to the table and sat down in a vacant 
place beside the pretty soubrette^ who, charmed with such 
a gay, handsome seignior, had been pleased to bestow a 
languishing glance and a brilliant smile upon him. 

Mattre Chirriguirri hastened to fetch what he had de- 
manded, whilst the soubrette^ with the grace of a Hebe, 
filled his glass to the brim with wine ; which he accepted 
with a smile, and drank off at a single draught. For a 
few minutes he was fully occupied in satisfying his 
hunger — which was veritably that of a hunter — and then 
looking about him at the party assembled round the 
table, remarked the Baron de Sigognac, with whom he 
had a slight acquaintance, seated beside the fair Isabelle 
— in whose company indeed he had seen him already 
once before that day. The two young people were talk- 
ing together in low tones, and quite absorbed in each 
other ; but the language of their eyes was unmistakable, 
and the marquis smiled to himself as he took note of 
what he supposed to be a very promising intrigue — 
wherein he did the youthful pair great injustice. As a 
thorough man of the world he was not at all surprised at 
finding de Sigognac with this band of vagabond players, 
from such a motive, and the half-pitying contempt he 
had formerly felt for the shabby, retiring young baron 
was straightway changed to a certain admiration and 


THE BLUE SUN INN. 


57 


respect by this evidence of his gallantry. When he 
caught his eye he made a little gesture of recognition and 
approval — to show that he understood and appreciated 
his position — but paid no further attention to him, 
evidently meaning to respect his incognito, and devoted 
himself to the soubrette. She received his high-flown 
compliments with peals of laughter, and paid him back 
in his own coin with considerable wit and much mer- 
riment, to the great delight of the marquis — who was 
always delighted to meet with any adventure of this sort. 

Wishing to pursue this one, which opened so well, he 
declared loudly that he was passionately fond of the 
theatre, and complained pathetically of being deprived 
altogether of this, his favorite amusement, in the country; 
then addressing himself to the tyrant he asked whether 
the troupe had any pressing engagements that would 
prevent their turning aside a little from the usual route 
to visit the Chateau de Bruyeres and give one of their 
best plays there — it would be an easy matter to rig up a 
theatre for them in the great hall or the orangery. 

The tyrant hastened to reply that nothing could be 
easier, and that the troupe, one of the best that had ever 
travelled through the provinces, was entirely at his lord- 
ship’s disposition — “ from the king to the soubrette ” he 
added, with a broad grin. 

“ That is capital,” said the marquis, “ and as to money 
matters, you can arrange them to suit yourself. I should 
not think of bargaining with the votaries of Thalia a 
muse so highly favored by Apollo, and as eagerly sought 
after, and enthusiastically applauded, at the court of his 
most gracious majesty as in town and country every- 
where.” 

After arranging the necessary preliminaries, the mar- 
3 * 


58 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


quis, who had meantime surreptitiously squeezed the 
soubrette's hand under the table, rose, called his dogs 
together, put on his hat, waved his hand to the company 
in token of adieu, and took his departure amid much bark- 
ing and commotion — going directly home, in order to set 
on foot his preparations to receive the comedians on the 
morrow at his chateau. 

As it was growing late, and they were to make an 
early start the next morning, our tired travellers lost no 
time in going to rest ; the women in a sort of loft, where 
they had to make themselves as comfortable as they 
could with the bundles of straw that were to serve them 
for beds, whilst the men slept on the benches in the room 
where they had supped. 


CHAPTER IV 


AN ADVENTURE WITH BRIGANDS. 

Let us return now to the little girl we left feigning to 
sleep soundly upon a settle in the kitchen. There was 
certainly something suspicious about the fierce way in 
which she eyed Isabelle’s pearl necklace, and her -little 
bit of clever acting afterwards. As soon as the door had 
closed upon the comedians she slowly opened her large, 
dark eyes, looked sharply round the great, dim kitchen, 
and when she found that nobody was watching her, 
slipped quietly down from the bench, threw back her 
hair with a quick movement of the head peculiar to her, 
crept softly to the door, which she cautiously unlatched, 
and escaped into the open air without making any more 
sound than a shadow, then walked slowly and listlessly 
away until she had turned a corner and was out of sight 
of the house, when she set off running as fleetly as a deer 
pursued by the hounds — jumping over the frequent obsta- 
cles in her path with wonderful agility, never stumbling, 
and flying along, with her black hair streaming out be- 
hind her, like some wild creature of the desolate pine bar- 
rens through which she was skilfully threading her way. 

She reached at last a little knoll, crowned by a group 
of pine trees crowded closely together, and dashing up 
the steep bank with undiminished speed came to a sud- 
den stop in the very middle of the grove. Here she 
stood still for a moment, peering anxiously about her, 
and then, putting two fingers in her mouth, gave three 

59 


6o 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


shrill whistles, such as no traveller in those desolate re- 
gions can hear without a shudder. In an instant what 
seemed to be a heap of pine twigs stirred, and a man 
emerging from beneath them rose slowly to his feet at a 
little distance from the child. 

“ Is it you, Chiquita ” he asked. “ What news do 
you bring? You are late. I had given over expecting 
you to-night, and gone to sleep.” 

The speaker was a dark, fierce-looking fellow of about 
five and twenty, with a spare, wiry frame, brilliant black 
eyes, and very white teeth — which were long and pointed 
like the fangs of a young wolf. He looked as if he might 
be a brigand, poacher, smuggler, thief, or assassin — all 
of which he had been indeed by turns. He was dressed 
like a Spanish peasant, and in the red woolen girdle 
wound several times around his waist w’as stuck a for- 
midable knife, called in Spain a 7iavaja. The despera- 
does who make use of these terrible weapons usually dis- 
play as many red stripes, cut in the steel, upon their long 
pointed blades as they have committed murders, and are 
esteemed by their companions in proportion to the number 
indicated by this horrible record. We do not know ex- 
actly how many of these scarlet grooves adorned Agosti- 
no’s navaja, but judging by the savage expression of his 
countenance, and the fierce glitter of his eye, we may 
safely suppose them to have been creditably numerous. 

“ Well, Chiquita,” said he, laying his hand caressingly 
on the child’s head, “ and what did you see at Maitre 
Chirriguirri’s inn ? ” 

“ A great chariot full of people came there this after- 
noon,” she answered. “ I saw them carry five large 
chests into the barn, and they must have been very 
heavy, for it took two men to lift them.” 


AJV ADVENTURE WITH BRIGANDS. 6 1 

“ Hum ! ” said Agostino, “ sometimes travellers put 
stones into their boxes to make them seem very weighty 
and valuable, and deceive the inn-keepers.” 

“ But,” interrupted the child eagerly, “ the three young 
ladies had trimmings of gold on their clothes ; and one 
of them, the prettiest, had round her neck a row of round, 
shining, white things, and oh ! they were so beautiful ! ” 
and she clasped her hands in an ecstasy of admiration, 
her voice trembling with excitement. 

“ Those must be pearls,” muttered Agostino to him- 
self, “ and they will be worth having — provided they are 
real — but then they do make such perfect imitations 
now-a-days, and even rich people are mean enough to 
wear them.” 

“ My dear Agostino, my good Agostino,” continued 
Chiquita, in her most coaxing tones, and without paying 
any attention to his mutterings, ‘‘ will you give me the 
beautiful, shining things if you kill that lady ? ” 

“ They would go so well with your rags and tatters ! ” 
he answered mockingly. 

“ But I have so often kept watch for you while you slept, 
and I have run so far to tell you when any one was com- 
ing, no matter how cold it was, nor how my poor, bare feet 
ached — and I have never once kept you waiting for your 
food, when I used to carry it to you in your hiding places, 
even when I was bad with the fever, or my teeth chatter- 
ing with the chill, and I so weak that I could hardly drag 
myself along. Oh Agostino ! do remember what I have 
done for you, and let me have the beautiful, shining things.” 

‘‘ Yes, you have been both brave and faithful, Chiquita, 
I admit ; but we have not got the wonderful necklace 
yet, you know. Now, tell me, how many men were there 
in the party ? ” 


62 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


“ Oh ! a great many. A big, tall man with a long 
beard ; an old, fat man — one that looked like a fox — two 
thin men, and one that looked like a gentleman, though 
his clothes were very old and shabby.” 

“Six men,” said Agostino, who had counted them on 
his fingers as she enumerated them, and his face fell. 
“ Alas ! I am the only one left of our brave band now ; 
when the others were with me we would not have minded 
double the number. Have they arms, Chiquita ? ” 

“ The gentleman has a sword, and so has the tall, thin 
man — a very long one.” 

“No pistols or guns ? ” 

“ I didn’t see any,” answered Chiquita, “ but they 
might have left them in the chariot, you know ; only 
Maitre Chirriguirri or Mionnette would have been sure 
to send you word if they had, and they said nothing to 
me about them.” 

“Well, we will risk it then, and see what we can do,” 
said Agostino resolutely. “ Five large, heavy chests, 
gold ornaments, a pearl necklace ! they certainly are 
worth trying for.” 

The brigand and his little companion then went to a 
secret place in the thick pine grove, and set to work in- 
dustriously, removing a few large stones, a quantity of 
branches, and finally the five or six boards they had con- 
cealed, disclosing a large hole that looked like a grave. 
It was not very deep, and Agostino, jumping down into 
it, stooped and lifted out what seemed to be a dead body 
-^dressed in its usual every-day clothes — which he flung 
down upon the ground beside the hole. Chiquita, who 
did not appear to be in the least agitated or alarmed by 
these mysterious proceedings, seized the figure by the 
feet, with the utmost sang-froid, and dragged it out of 


AN ADVENTUI^E WITH BRIGANDS. 63 


Agostino’s way, with a much greater degree of strength 
than could have been expected from such a slight, deli- 
cate little creature. Agostino continued his work of ex- 
humation until five other bodies lay beside the first one 
— all neatly arranged in a row by the little girl, who 
seemed to actually enjoy her lugubrious task. It made 
a strange picture in the weird light of the nearly full 
moon, half veiled by driving clouds — the open grave, the 
bodies lying side by side under the dark pine trees, and 
the figures of Agostino and Chiquita bending over them. 

But the tragic aspect of the affair soon changed to a 
comic one ; for when Agostino placed the first of the 
bodies in an upright position it became apparent that it 
was only a sort of a scarecrow — a rude figure intended to 
frighten timid travellers — which being skilfully disposed 
at the edge of the grove, partly hidden among the trees, 
looked at a little distance exactly like a brigand — gun 
and all. Indeed it really was dressed in the garments of 
one of his old comrades, who had paid the penalty of his 
crimes on the gallows. He apostrophized the figure as 
he arranged it to his liking, calling it by name, relating 
some of the brave deeds of its prototype, and bewailing 
the sad fate that had left him to ply his nefarious trade 
single-handed, with a rude eloquence that was not want- 
ing in pathos. Returning to where the others lay, he 
lifted up one which he reminded Chiquita represented 
her father — whose valor and skill he eulogized warmly — 
whilst the child devoutly made the sign of the cross as 
she muttered a prayer. This one being put in position, he 
carried the remaining figures, one by one, to the places 
marked for them, keeping up a running commentary upon 
the ci-devant brigands whose representatives they were, 
and calling them each repeatedly by name, as if there 


64 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


were a certain sad satisfaction in addressing them in the 
old, familiar way. 

When this queer task was completed, the bandit and 
his faithful little companion, taking advantage of a flood 
of moonlight as the clouds drifted away before the 
wind, went and stood on the road — not very far from their 
retreat — by which our travellers were to pass, to judge of 
the effect of their group of brigands. It was really very 
formidable, and had often been of great service to the 
bold originator of the plan ; for on seeing so numerous a 
band apparently advancing upon them, most travellers 
took to their heels, leaving the coveted spoils behind 
them for Agostino to gather up at his leisure. 

As they slowly returned to the pine grove he said to 
the child, who was clinging to his arm affectionately as 
she walked beside him, “ The first stage of their journey 
to-morrow is a long one, and these people will be sure 
to start in good season, so that they will reach this spot 
just at the right time for us — in the uncertain light of the 
dawn. In the darkness of night our brigands yonder 
could not be seen, and in broad daylight the ruse would 
be apparent ; so we are in luck, Chiquita ! But now for 
a nap — we have plenty of time for it, and the creaking 
of the wheels will be sure to wake us.” Accordingly 
Agostino threw himself down upon a little heap of pine 
branches and heather, Chiquita crept close to him, so 
that the large cloak with which he had covered himself 
might protect her also from the chilly night air, and both 
were soon sound asleep. 

It was so early when our travellers were roused from 
their slumbers and told that it was time for them to resume 
their journey, by the treacherous landlord of the Blue Sun 
Inn, that it seemed to them like the middle of the night ; 


A AT ADVENTURE WITH BRIGANDS. 65 


SO they arranged themselves as comfortably as they 
could in the great, roomy chariot, and despite the loud 
creaking and groaning that accompanied its every move- 
ment as it went slowly lumbering along, and the shrill 
cries of the driver to his oxen, they were all soon asleep 
again, excepting de Sigognac, who walked beside the 
chariot, lost in thoughts of Isabelle’s beauty, grace and 
modesty, and adorable goodness, which seemed better 
suited to a young lady of noble birth than a wandering 
actress. He tormented himself with trying to devise 
some means to induce her to reciprocate the ardent love 
that filled his heart for her, not for an instant suspecting 
that it was already a fait acco7npli., and that the sweet, 
pure maiden had given him, unasked, her gentle, faithful 
heart. The bashful young baron imagined all sorts of 
romantic and perilous incidents in which he might con- 
stitute himself her knight and protector, and show such 
brave and tender devotion to her as he had read of in 
the old books of chivalry ; and which might lead up to 
the avowal he was burning to make, yet dared not. It 
never occurred to him that the look in his dark eyes 
whenever they rested on her fair face, the tone of his 
voice when he addressed her, the deep sighs he vainly 
sought to stifle, and the tender, eager care with which he 
strove to anticipate her every wish had spoken for him, 
as plainly as any words could do ; and that, though he 
had not dared to breathe one syllable of his passionate 
love to Isabelle, she knew it, rejoiced in it, and was 
proud of it, and that it filled her with a delicious, 
rapturous joy, such as she had never felt before, or even 
dreamed of. 

The morning began to break — the narrow band of pale 
light on the horizon, which was growing rapidly brighter 


66 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


and assuming a rosy tinge, was reflected here and there 
in the little pools of water that shone like bits of a broken 
mirror scattered over the ground — distant sounds were 
heard, and columns of smoke rising into the still morning 
air proved that even in this desolate, God-forsaken part 
of the Landes there were human habitations to be found. 
Stalking along with giant strides on the highest part of 
some rising ground not very far off was a grotesque 
figure, clearly defined against the bright eastern sky, 
which would have been a puzzle to a stranger, but was a 
familiar sight to de Sigognac — a shepherd mounted on 
his high stilts, such as are to be met with everywhere 
throughout the Landes. 

But the young baron was too much absorbed in his 
own engrossing thoughts to take any note of his sur- 
roundings as he kept pace with the slow-moving chariot, 
until his eye was caught and his attention fixed by a 
strange little point of light, glittering among the sombre 
pines that formed the dense grove where we left Agostino 
and Chiquita sleeping. He wondered what it could be — 
certainly not a glow-worm, the season for them was past 
long ago — and he watched it as he advanced towards it 
with a vague feeling of uneasiness. Approaching nearer 
he caught a glimpse of the singular group of figures lurk- 
ing among the trees, and at first feared an ambuscade ; 
but finding that they continued perfectly motionless he 
concluded that he must have been mistaken, and that 
they were only old stumps after all ; so he forebore to 
arouse the comedians, as he had for a moment thought of 
doing. 

A few steps farther and suddenly a loud report was 
heard from the grove, a bullet sped through the air, and 
struck the oxen’s yoke — happily without doing any 


AJV ADVENTURE WITH BRIGANDS. 6 / 


damage, further than causing the usually quiet, steady- 
going beasts to swerve violently to one side — when for- 
tunately a considerable heap of sand prevented the 
chariot’s being overturned into the ditch beside the road. 
The sharp report and violent shock startled the sleeping 
travellers in the chariot, and the younger women shrieked 
wildly in their terror, whilst the duenna, who had met 
with such adventures before, slipped the few gold pieces 
she had in her purse into her shoe. Beside the chariot, 
from which the actors were struggling to extricate them- 
selves, stood Agostino — his cloak wrapped around his 
left arm and the formidable navaja in his right hand — 
and cried in a voice of thunder, “ Your money or your 
lives ! Resistance is useless ! At the first sign of it my 
band will fire upon you.” 

Whilst the bandit was shouting out these terrible words, 
de Sigognac had quietly drawn his sword, and as he fin- 
ished attacked him furiously. Agostino skilfully parried 
his thrusts, with the cloak on his left arm, which so dis- 
posed made an excellent shield, and watched his oppor- 
tunity to give a murderous stab with his navaja^ which in- 
deed he almost succeeded in doing ; a quick spring to 
one side alone saved the baron from a wound which must 
have been fatal, as the brigand threw the knife at him 
with tremendous force, and it flew through the air and 
fell ringing upon the ground at a marvelous distance, in- 
stead of piercing de Sigognac’s heart. His antagonist 
turned pale, for he was quite defenseless, having depended 
entirely upon his trusty navaja., which had never failed him 
before, and he very well knew that his vaunted band could 
not come to his rescue. However, he shouted to them 
to fire, counting upon the sudden terror that command 
would inspire to deliver him from his dilemma ; and, in- 


68 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


deed, the comedians, expecting a broadside, did take ref- 
uge behind the chariot, whilst even our brave hero involun- 
tarily bent his head a little, to avoid the shower of bullets. 

Meantime Chiquita, who had breathlessly watched all 
that passed from her hiding place among some furze 
bushes close at hand, when she saw her friend in peril, 
crept softly forth, glided along on the ground like a snake 
until she reached the knife, lying unnoticed where it had 
fallen, and, seizing it, in one instant had restored it to 
Agostino. She looked like a little fury as she did so, 
and if her strength had been equal to her ferocity she 
would have been a formidable foe. 

Agostino again aimed his navaja at the baron, who 
was at that moment off his guard, and would not per- 
haps have escaped the deadly weapon a second time if it 
had been hurled at him from that skilful hand, but that a 
grasp of iron fastened upon the desperado’s wrist, just in 
time to defeat his purpose. He strove in vain to extri- 
cate his right arm from the powerful grip that held it 
like a vice — struggling violently, and writhing with the 
pain it caused him — but he dared not turn upon this new 
assailant, who was behind him, because de Sigognac 
would have surely scored his back for him ; and he was 
forced to continue parrying his thrusts with his left arm, 
still protected by the ample cloak firmly wound around 
it. He soon discovered that he could not possibly free 
his right hand, and the agony became so great that his 
fingers could no longer keep their grasp of the knife, 
which fell a second time to the ground. 

It was the tyrant who had come to de Sigognac’s res- 
cue, and now suddenly roared out in his stentorian voice. 
What the deuce is nipping me ? is it a viper ? I felt 
two sharp fangs meet in the calf of my leg.” 


AN ADVENTUJ^E tVITU BE/GANNS. 69 

It was Chiquita, who was biting his leg like a dog, in 
the vain hope of making him turn round and loose his 
hold upon Agostino ; but the tyrant shook her off with 
a quick movement, that sent her rolling in the dust at 
some distance, without relinquishing his captive, whilst 
Matamore dashed forward and picked up the navaja^ 
which he shut together and put into his pocket. 

Whilst this scene was enacting the sun had risen, and 
poured a flood of radiance upon the earth in which the 
sham brigands lost much of their life-like effect. “ Ha, 
ha ! ” laughed the pedant, “ it would appear that those 
gentlemen’s guns take a long time to go off ; they must 
be wet with dew. But whatever may be the matter with 
them they are miserable cowards, to stand still there at a 
safe distance and leave their chief to do all the fighting by 
himself.” 

“There is a good reason for that,” answered Mata- 
more, as he climbed up the steep bank to them, “ these 
are nothing but scarecrows.” And with six vigorous 
kicks he sent the six absurd figures rolling in every di- 
rection, making the most comical gestures as they fell. 

“You may safely alight now, ladies,” said the baron, 
reassuringly, to the trembling actresses, “there’s noth- 
ing more to fear ; it was only a sham battle after all.” 

In despair at his overwhelming defeat, Agostino hung 
his head mournfully, and stood like a statue of grief, dread- 
ing lest worse still should befall him, if the comedians, 
who were in too great force for him to attempt to struggle 
any longer against them, decided to take him on to the next 
town and deliver him over to the jailor to be locked up, 
as indeed he richly deserved. His faithful little friend, 
Chiquita, stood motionless at his side, as downcast as 
himself. But the farce of the false brigands so tickled 


70 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


the fancy of the players that it seemed as if they never 
would have done laughing over it, and they were evi- 
dently inclined to deal leniently with the ingenious ras- 
cal who had devised it. The tyrant, who had loosened, 
but not quitted, his hold upon the bandit, assumed his 
most tragic air and voice, and said to him, “You have 
frightened these ladies almost to death, you scoundrel, 
and you richly deserve to be strung up for it ; but if, as I 
believe, they will consent to pardon you — for they are 
very kind and good — I will not take you to the lock-up. 
I confess that I do not care to furnish a subject for the 
gallows. Besides, your stratagem is really very ingenious 
and amusing — a capital farce to play at the expense of 
cowardly travellers — who have doubtless paid you well 
for the entertainment, eh ? As an actor, I appreciate the 
joke, and your ingenuity inclines me to be indulgent. 
You are not simply and brutally a robber, and it would cer- 
tainly be a pity to cut short such a fine career.” 

“ Alas ! ” answered Agostino mournfully, “ no other 
career is open to me, and I am more to be pitied than 
you suppose. I am the only one left of a band formerly 
as complete as yours ; the executioner has deprived me 
of my brave comrades one by one, and now I am obliged 
to carry on my operations entirely alone— dressing up my 
scarecrows, as your friend calls them, and assuming dif- 
ferent voices to make believe that I am supported by a 
numerous company. Ah ! mine is a sad fate ; and then 
my road is such a poor one — so few travellers come this 
way — and I have not the means to purchase a better one. 
Every good road is owned by a band of brigands, you 
know. I wish that I could get some honest work to do, 
but that is hopeless ; who would employ such a looking 
fellow as I am ? all in rags and tatters, worse than the 


AJV ADVENTURE WITH BRIGANDS. 


71 


poorest beggar. I must surely have been born under an 
unlucky star. And now this attempt has failed, from 
which I hoped to get enough to keep us for two months, 
and buy a decent cloak for poor Chiquita besides ; she 
needs it badly enough, poor thing ! Yesterday I had 
nothing to eat, and I had to tighten my belt to sustain 
my empty stomach. Your unexpected resistance has 
taken the very bread out of my mouth ; and since you 
would not let me rob you, at least be generous and give 
me something.” 

‘‘ To be sure,” said the tyrant, who was greatly amused ; 
“ as we have prevented your successfully plying your 
trade we certainly do owe you an indemnity. Here, 
take these two pistoles to drink our healths with.” 

Isabelle meantime sought in the chariot for a piece of 
new woolen stuff she happened to have with her, which 
was soft and warm, and gave it to Chiquita, who ex- 
claimed, “ Oh ! but it is the necklace of shining white 
things that I want.” 

Kind Isabelle immediately unclasped it, and then fast- 
ened it round the slender neck of the child, who was so 
overwhelmed with delight that she could not speak. She 
silently rolled the smooth, white beads between her little 
brown fingers in a sort of mute ecstacy for a few moments, 
then suddenly raising her head and tossing back her 
thick black hair, she fixed her sparkling eyes on Isabelle, 
and said in a low, earnest voice, “ Oh ! you are very, very 
good, and I will never, never kill you.” Then she ran 
swiftly back to the pine grove, clambered up the steep 
bank, and sat down to admire and enjoy her treasure. 
As to Agostino, after making his best bow, and thanking 
the tyrant for his really princely munificence, he picked 
up his prostrate comrades, and carried them back to be 


72 


CA P TA IN FRA CA SSE. • 


buried again until their services should be needed on 
some, he hoped, more auspicious occasion. 

The driver, who had deserted his oxen and run to hide 
himself among the furze bushes at the beginning of the 
affray, returned to his post when he saw that all danger 
was over, and the chariot once more started upon its way — 
the worthy duenna having taken her doubloons out of her 
shoes and restored them to her purse, which was then 
deposited in the depths of a mysterious pocket. 

“You behaved like a real hero of romance,” Isabelle 
said in an undertone to de Sigognac, “ and I feel that 
under your protection we can travel securely ; how brave- 
ly you attacked that bandit single-handed ! when you 
had every reason to believe that he was supported by an 
armed band.” 

“ You over-estimate my little exploit,” the baron replied 
modestly, “ there was no danger worth mentioning,” then 
sinking his voice to a whisper, “ but to protect you I would 
meet and conquer giants, put to flight a whole host of 
Saracens, attack and destroy dragons and horrid monsters; 
I would force my way through enchanted forests filled 
with snares and perils, such as we read of, and even de- 
scend into hell itself, like ^neas of old. In your dear 
service the most difficult feats would be easy ; your beau- 
tiful eyes inspire me with indomitable courage, and your 
sweet presence, or even the bare thought of you, seems 
to endue me with a superhuman strength.” 

This was, perhaps, rather exaggerated, but perfectly 
sincere, and Isabelle did not doubt for a moment that 
de Sigognac would be able to accomplish fabulous deeds 
of prowess in her honor and for her sake ; and she was 
not so very far wrong, for he was becoming hourly more 
passionately enamored of her, and ardent young lovers 


AN ADVENTURE WITH BRIGANDS. 73 

are capable of prodigies of valor, inspired by the fair ob- 
jects of their adoration. 

Serafina, who had overheard some of the baron’s im- 
passioned words, could not repress a scornful smile ; so 
many women are apt to find the fervid protestations of 
lovers, when addressed to others than themselves, su- 
premely ridiculous, yet joyfully receive the very same 
protestations, without detecting anything in the least ab- 
surd in them, when whispered into their own ears. For 
a moment she was tempted to try the power of her many 
charms, which she believed to be irresistible, with the 
young baron, and win him away from Isabelle ; but this 
idea was speedily rejected, for Serafina held beauty to be 
a precious gem that should be richly set in gold — the gem 
was hers, but the golden setting was lamentably wanting, 
and poor de Sigognac could not possibly furnish it. So 
the accomplished coquette decided not to interfere with 
this newly-born love affair, which was “ all very well for 
a simple-minded young girl like Isabelle,” she said to 
herself, with a disdainful smile and toss of the head. 

Profound silence had fallen upon the party after the 
late excitement, and some of them were even growing 
sleepy again, when several hours later the driver suddenly 
called out, “ There is the Chateau de Bruyeres.” 


4 


CHAPTER V. 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUY^RES. 

The extensive domain of the Marquis de Bruyeres was 
situated just upon the edge of the Landes, and consisted 
mostly of productive, highly-cultivated land — the barren 
sand reaching only to the boundary wall of the great 
park that surrounded the chateau. An air of prosperity 
pervaded the entire estate, in pleasing contrast with the 
desolate region of country close at hand. Outside the 
park wall was a broad, deep ditch, filled with clear water 
and spanned by a handsome stone bridge, wide enough 
for two carriages abreast, which led to the grand entrance 
gates. These were of wrought iron, and quite a marvel 
of delicate workmanship and beauty. There was a good 
deal of gilding about them, and the lofty apex bore a 
marquis’s crown above a shield supported by two naked 
savages, upon which the de Bruyeres arms were richly 
emblazoned — it was an entrance worthy of a royal de- 
mesne. When our party paused before it, in the course 
of the morning, a servant in a rich, showy livery was 
slowly opening the folding leaves of the magnificent 
gates, so as to admit them into the park. ’The very oxen 
hesitated ere they took their slow way through it, as if 
dazzled by so much splendor, and ashamed of their own 
homeliness — the honest brutes little suspecting that the 
wealthy nobleman’s pomp and glitter are derived from 
the industry of the lowly tillers of the soil. It certainly 

74 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. 75 

would seem as if only fine carriages and prancing horses 
should be permitted to pass through such a portal as 
this, but the chariot of Thespis, no matter how humble, 
is privileged, and not only enters, but is welcome every- 
where. 

A broad avenue led from the bridge to the chateau, 
passing by carefully clipped shrubbery, whence marble 
statues peeped out here and there, and a beautiful gar- 
den, with flower-beds ingeniously laid out in geometrical 
. patterns, and brilliant with well contrasted colors. The 
narrow walks among them were bordered with box, and 
strewn with fine sand of various tints, and several little 
fountains threw up their sparkling jets among the flowers. 
In the centre of the garden was a magnificent fountain, 
with a large, oblong, marble basin, and a Triton, on a 
high pedestal, pouring water from a shell. A row of 
yews, skillfully trimmed into pyramids, balls, and various 
fanciful shapes, and placed at regular distances on each 
side of the grand avenue, extended from the entrance 
gates to the chateau, their sombre hue contrasting well 
with the brighter green of the foliage behind them. 
Everything. was in the most perfect order; not a leaf out 
of place, nor a particle of dust to be seen anywhere, as 
if the gardeners had just freshly washed and trimmed 
every tree, shrub, and plant under their care. 

All this magnificence astonished and delighted the 
poor comedians, who rarely gained admission to such 
an abode as this. Serafina, affecting indifference, but 
noting everything carefully from under her lowered eye- 
lashes, promised herself to supplant the soubrette in the 
marquis’s favor, feeling that this great seignior was her 
own legitimate prey, and ought to have devoted him- 
self to her in the first place, instead of weakly yielding 


76 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


to the vulgar blandishments of the pretty waiting-maid, 
as he should no longer be permitted to do— if she 
had any power. 

Meanwhile the souhrette, feeling sure of her conquest, 
had given herself up to castle-building with all the fer- 
vor of her ardent southern nature. Isabelle, who was 
not preoccupied by any ambitious projects, turned her 
head now and then to glance and smile tenderly at de 
Sigognac, who was sitting in the chariot behind her 
and who she knew must be feeling acutely the painful 
contrast between this splendid estate and his own deso- 
late, half-ruined chateau. Her loving heart ached for 
him, and her eyes spoke sweetest sympathy to the poor 
young nobleman, reduced so low in fortune, yet so wor- 
thy of a better fate. 

The tyrant was deep in thought, trying to decide how 
much he might venture to demand for the services of 
his troupe, and mentally increasing the amount at ev- 
ery step, as new glories disclosed themselves to his won- 
dering eyes. The pedant was looking forward impa- 
tiently to the copious draughts of generous wine he felt 
sure of enjoying in the splendid chateau that was now 
in full view, and Leander, striving to smooth his slightly 
dishevelled locks with a dainty little tortoise-shell pocket- 
comb, was wondering, with a fluttering heart, whether a 
fair marquise dwelt within those walls, and would gaze 
down upon him from one of those windows as he alighted 
— indulging in high hopes of the impression he should 
make upon her susceptible heart. 

The Chateau de Bruyeres, which had been entirely re- 
built in the preceding reign, was a noble structure, of 
immense size, three stories in height, and enclosing a 
large interior court. It was built of red brick, with 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRU VERES. 

elaborate, white stone facings. There were many pretty 
balconies with sculptured stone railings, and large, clear 
panes of glass— an unusual luxury at that epoch— in the 
numerous lofty windows, through which the rich hang- 
ings within were visible ; and a projecting porch, reached 
by an imposing flight of broad stone steps, in the centre 
of the fa9ade, marked the main entrance. The high, 
steep roof was of slate, in several shades, wrought into a 
quaint, pretty pattern, and the groups of tall chimneys 
were symmetrically disposed and handsomely orna- 
mented. There was a look of gayety and luxury about 
this really beautiful chateau which gave the idea of great 
prosperity, but not the slightest approach to vulgar pre- 
tension. There was nothing meretricious or glaring ; 
everything was substantial and in perfect taste, and an 
indescribably majestic, dignified air, if we may be 
allowed the expression, pervaded the whole establish- 
ment, which spoke of ancient wealth and nobility under 
all this modern splendor. 

Behind the chateau, its gardens and terraces, was a 
veritable forest of lofty, venerable trees, forming the 
magnificent park, which was of great extent, and for 
centuries had been the pride of the de Bruyeres. 

Although our high-minded young hero had never been 
envious of any one in his life, he could not altogether 
suppress the melancholy sigh with which he remembered 
that in former years the de Sigognacs had stood higher 
than the de Bruyeres in the province, and had taken pre- 
cedence of them at court ; nor could he help contrasting 
in his own mind this fresh, new chateau, replete with 
every beauty and luxury that a cultivated taste could 
devise and plentiful wealth procure, with his own deso- 
late, dilapidated mansion — the home of owls and rats — 


78 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


which was gradually but surely crumbling into dust, and 
a keen pang shot through his heart at the thought. He 
recalled the dreary, solitary, hopeless life he had led 
there, and said to himself that the Marquis de Bruyeres 
ought to be a very happy man, with so much to make his 
existence delightful. The stopping of the chariot at the 
foot of the broad stone steps in the front of the chateau 
aroused him from his reverie ; he dismissed as quickly as 
he could the sad thoughts that had engrossed him, en- 
deavored to dismiss also the dark shadow from his brow, 
and jumping lightly to the ground turned and held out 
his hand to help Isabelle to descend, before any one else 
could offer her that little service. 

The Marquis de Bruyeres, who had seen the chariot 
advancing slowly up the avenue, stood in the porch to 
receive them. He was superbly dressed, and looked 
very handsome, as both Serafina and the soubrette 
secretly remarked. He descended two or three steps 
as the chariot stopped, and welcomed his guests with a 
friendly wave of the hand — doing them as much honor 
as if they had been of his own rank — which act of cour- 
tesy, let us hasten to explain, was because of the Baron 
de Sigognac’s presence among them ; but for that they 
would not have been brought to the main entrance at all. 

At this moment the wily soubrette, seeing her oppor- 
tunity for a bold stroke, prepared to alight ; and as de 
Sigognac was fully occupied with Isabelle, and nobody 
else thought of paying any attention to her — for she 
always jumped to the ground as lightly as a bird, dis- 
daining assistance — she hesitated for a moment, with an 
adorable little air of timidity, and then raised an appeal- 
ing glance to the marquis. He could not resist it, and, 
rushing down the steps to her aid, held out both hands 



“‘PARDON ME, MY LORD 








* V * 







w . • • 


:3 


. V 



; 



; ?>. 45 .,>/.'-. . 


4 


»c 





Mil 


lY W ♦ * - . 


'■fs 


T 

*-p^ 

'V 


i - ■* > . ■ v'iv: ijn/v*; 

• k ' . . • v-*- ^ ' • ' *v.^ 

• * ■ y\ ik^ " - -AT— « m^ka^ 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. /Q 

t6 her. With wonderful art the clever little actress 
managed to slip and lose her balance, so as to fall into 
his extended arms, clasping him round the neck as she 
did so. 

“ Pardon me, my lord,” said she, breathlessly, to the 
marquis, feigning a confusion she was far from really 
feeling, “ I thought I was going to fall, and grasped your 
collar, just as a drowning man clutches at the nearest 
object. A fall is a bad omen, you know, as well as a 
serious matter, for a poor actress.” 

“ Permit me to look upon this little accident as a 
favor,” the marquis replied, giving her a most significant 
glance, and lightly pressing her yielding form in his arms 
before he released her. 

Serafina had watched this little by-play out of the cor- 
ner of her eye, though her face was apparently turned 
away from them, and she bit her lip till it bled, with 
vexation ; so after all the soubrette had succeeded, by 
an abominably bold action, in compelling the marquis to 
neglect her betters and give his warmest welcome to a 
low intrigante^ said the “ leading lady ” to herself, swell- 
ing with righteous indignation, and abusing the offender 
roundly in her thoughts — wishing that she could do it 
aloud, and expose her outrageous, unmannerly artifice. 

“ Jean,” said the marquis to a servant in livery who 
stood near, “ have this chariot taken into the court, and 
see that the decorations, scenery, etc., are carefully put 
in some convenient place ; have the luggage of these 
ladies and gentlemen carried to the rooms that I ordered 
to be made ready for them, and take care that they have 
everything they want ; ” then in a lower tone, but very 
emphatically, “ I desire that they should be treated with 
the utmost courtesy and respect.” 


8o 


CAPTAIN FKACASSE. 


These orders being given, the marquis gravely ascendefd 
the steps, followed by the comedians, and having con- 
signed them to his major-domo to show them to their 
respective rooms and make them comfortable, he grace- 
fully bowed and left them ; darting an admiring glance 
at the soubrette as he did so, which she acknowledged by 
a radiant smile, that Serafina, raging inwardly, pro- 
nounced “abominably bold.” 

The chariot meantime had made its way into a back 
court, accompanied by^ tl^tyrant, the pedant and Scapin, 
who superintended the unloading of the various articles 
that would be needed — a strange medley, which the 
supercilious servants of the chateau, in their rich liveries, 
handled with a very lofty air of contempt and condescen- 
sion, feeling it quite beneath their dignity to wait upon 
a band of strolling players. But they dared not rebel, 
for the marquis had ordered it, and he was a severe 
master, as well as a very generous one. 

The major-domo, however, conducted his charges to 
their appointed chambers with as profound an air of 
respect as if they had been real princes and princesses ; 
for the marquis himself had visited the left wing of the 
chateau, where they were to be lodged, had specified the 
room for each guest, and ordered that they should want 
for nothing — a very unusual proceeding on his part, as 
he was in the habit of leaving all such minor details to 
his trusty major-domo. A beautiful chamber, hung with 
tapestry which represented the loves of Cupid and ' 
Psyche, was given to the soubrette, the pretty, dainty, blue 
one to Isabelle, and the luxurious red one to Serafina, | 

whilst the more sober brown one was assigned to the 1 

duenna. The Baron de Sigognac was installed in a 
magnificent apartment, whose panelled walls were covered 


AT THE CHATEAU DE B TUYERES. 


8l 


with richly embossed Spanish leather. It was close to 
Isabelle’s room — a delicate attention on the part of the 
marquis. This superb chamber was always reserved for 
his most honored guests, and in giving it to our young 
hero he desired to testify that he recognized and apprecia- 
ted his rank, though he religiously respected his incognito. 

When de Sigognac was left alone, and at liberty to 
think over quietly the odd situation in which he found 
himself, he looked at his magnificent surroundings with 
surprise as well as admiration — for he had never in his 
life .seen, or even imagined, such splendor and luxury. 
The rich glowing colors of the chimerical flowers and 
foliage embossed on a golden ground of the Spanish 
leather on the walls, the corresponding tints in the fres- 
coed ceiling and the heavy, silken hangings at the windows 
and doors and round the bed, the elaborately carved and 
gilded furniture, the luxurious easy-chairs and sofas, the 
large mirrors with bevelled edges, and the dainty dress- 
ing-table, lavishly furnished with all the accessories of 
the toilet, with its oval glass draped with lace which was 
tied back with knots of gay ribbon, certainly did make 
up a charming whole, and the wood fire burning brightly 
in the open fireplace gave a cheerful, cosy air to it all. 

Our poor young baron blushed painfully as he caught 
sight of his own figure in one of the long mirrors — his 
shabby, ill-fitting clothes looked so sadly out of place 
amidst all this magnificence — and for the first time in his 
life he felt ashamed of his poverty. Highly unphilo- 
sophical this, but surely excusable in so young a man as 
our hero. With a natural desire to improve his forlorn 
appearance if he could, he unpacked the scanty supply of 
clothing that his faithful Pierre had put up for him — 
hoping that he might come across something a little less 
4 * 


82 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


thread-bare than the suit he actually had on his back — 
but the inspection was not satisfactory, and he groaned 
as he discarded one faded, shabby garment after another. 
The linen was not any better — worn so that it was thin 
everywhere, with numerous darns and patches, and many 
holes, he could not find a single shirt that was whole and 
in good condition. He was so absorbed in this melan- 
choly inspection that he did not hear a low knock at the 
door, nor notice that it was slowly pushed open, having 
been already ajar, to admit the stout person of Blazius, 
who approached him with many bows and flourishes, 
though entirely unobserved. When the pedant reached 
his side de Sigognac was just holding up before him a 
shirt that had as many openings as the rose window of a 
cathedral, and slowly shaking his head as he gazed at it, 
with an expression of utter discouragement. 

“ Body of Bacchus ! ” exclaimed the pedant — his voice, 
so close at hand, startling the astonished baron, who had 
believed himself alone, and safe from intrusion — “ that 
shirt has verily a valiant and triumphant air. It looks as 
if it had been worn by Mars himself in battle, so riddled 
has it been by lances, spears, darts, arrows, and I know 
not what besides. Don’t be ashamed of it, Baron ! — 
these holes are honorable to you. Many a shirt of fine 
linen, ruffled and embroidered, according to the latest 
fashion, disguises the graceless person of some rascally 
parvenu — and usurer as well perhaps — who usurps the 
place of his betters. Several of the great heroes, of im- 
mortal fame, had not a shirt to their backs — Ulysses, for 
example, that wise and valiant man, who presented him- 
self before the beautiful Princess Nausicaa, with no 
other covering than a bunch of sea- weed — as we are told, 
in the Odyssey, by the grand old bard, Homer.” 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. ' 83 


“Unfortunately,” de Sigognac replied, “there is no 
point of resemblance, my dear Blazius, between me and 
the brave King of Ithaca, save the lack of linen. / have 
done no deeds of valor to shed a lustre over my poverty. 
I have had no chance to make myself famous, and I fear 
that the poets will never celebrate my praises in glowing 
hexameters. But, jesting aside, I must confess that I do 
feel greatly annoyed at being forced to appear in this 
guise here. The Marquis de Bruyeres recognized me, 
though he made no sign, and he may betray my se- 
cret.” 

• “ It is a pity,” said the pedant in reply, “ but there’s a 
remedy for every ill under the sun, save death, according 
to the old saying, and if you will permit me, I think that I 
can help you out of this awkward dilemma. We, poor play- 
ers, shadows of real men and women, phantoms of per- 
sonages of every degree, from the highest to the lowest, 
have the means necessary for assuming almost any char- 
acter, you know. As “ costumier ” of the troupe I am ac- 
customed to make all sorts of transformations, and can 
turn a miserable vagabond into an Alexander, or a vulgar 
wench into a princess. Now, if you are not too proud, I 
will exercise my poor skill in your lordship’s service. 
Since you have been willin'g to join our company for this 
journey, do not disdain to make use of our resources, 
such as they are, and put aside these ill-fitting garments, 
which disguise your natural advantages, and make you 
feel ill at ease. Most fortunately I happen to have in 
reserve a handsome suit of black velvet, which has not 
the least of a theatrical air about it, and has never been 
used ; any gentleman could wear it, and unless I am 
much mistaken it will fit you capitally. I have also the 
fine linen shirt, silk stockings, shoes with broad buckles, 


84 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


and cloak to go with it — there is nothing wanting, not 
even the sword.” 

“ Oh ! as to that,” cried de Sigognac, with a gesture 
expressive of all that pride of birth which no misfortunes 
could crush, “ I have my father’s sword.” 

“ True,” answered Blazius, “ and guard it sacredly, my 
lord ! for a sword is a faithful friend — defender of its 
master’s life and honor. It does not abandon him in 
times of peril and disaster, like the false friends who cling 
only to prosperity. Our stage swords have neither edge 
nor point, for they are only intended for show ; the 
wounds they make disappear suddenly when the curtain 
falls, without the aid of the surgeon with his instruments 
and lint. That trusty sword of yours you can depend 
upon in any emergency, and I have already seen it doing 
good service in our behalf. But permit me to go and 
fetch the things I spoke of ; I am impatient to see the 
butterfly emerge from the chrysalis.” 

Having thus spoken, in the theatrical way that had 
become habitual with him, the worthy pedant quitted the 
room, and soon reappeared, carrying a large package, 
which he deposited on the table in the centre of the 
chamber. 

‘‘ If your lordship will accept an old actor as valet-de- 
chambre^' he said, rubbing his hands joyfully together, 
‘‘ I will beautify you in no time. All the ladies will be 
sure to fall in love with you, for — with no disrespect to 
the larder at the Chateau de Sigognac be it said — you 
have fasted so much in your lonely life there that it has 
made you most interestingly slender and pale — just what 
the dear creatures delight in. They would not listen to 
a word from a stout lover, even if the diamonds and 
pearls of the fairy tale dropped from his lips whenever he 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRU VERES. 85 


spoke. That is the sole reason for my want of success 
with the fair sex, and I long ago deserted the shrine of 
Venus for the worship of Bacchus. A big paunch is not 
amiss among the devotees of that merry god, for it bears 
witness to plentiful libations.” 

Thus running on gaily, the worthy pedant strove to 
amuse the melancholy young nobleman, while he deftly 
performed his duties as valet ; and they were very quickly 
completed, for the requirements of the stage necessitate 
great dexterity on the part of the actors to make the met- 
amorphoses frequently needed with sufficient prompt- 
ness and rapidity. Charmed with the result of his efforts 
he led de Sigognac up to one of the large mirrors, wherein, 
upon raising his eyes, he saw a figure which, at the first 
glance, he thought must be that of some person who had 
entered the room without his knowledge, and turned to 
ask who the intruder was — but there was no stranger 
there, and he discovered that it was his own reflection — 
so changed that he was mute with astonishment. A 
young, handsome, richly-dressed de Sigognac stood before 
him, and a radiant smile parted his lips and lighted up 
his face as he gazed at his own image, which perfected 
the really marvellous transformation. Blazius, standing 
near, contemplated his work with undisguised pride and 
satisfaction, changing his position several times so as to 
get different views, as a sculptor might who had just put 
the finishing touches to his statue altogether to his liking. 

“ When you have made your way at court, my lord, 
and regained the position held by your ancestors, as I 
hope and expect that you will do, I shall pray you to give 
me a refuge for my old age in your household, and make 
me intendant of your lordship’s wardrobe,” said he, with 
a profound bow to the baron. 


86 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


“I will not forget your request, my good Blazius, even 
though I fear that I shall never be able to comply with 
it,” de Sigognac answered with a melancholy smile. “ You, 
my kind friend, are the first human .being that has ever 
asked a favor of me.” 

“ After our dinner, which we are to have very shortly, 
we are to consult with his lordship, the marquis, as to 
what play shall be given this evening, and learn from him 
where we are to rig our theatre. You will pass for the 
poet of the troupe ; it is by no means an unheard-of thing 
for men of learning and position to join a band of play- 
ers thus — either for the fun of the thing, and in hope 
of adventures, or for the love of a young and beautiful 
actress. I could tell you of several notable instances ; 
and it is thought to be rather to a man’s credit than 
otherwise in fashionable circles. Isabelle is a very good 
pretext for you ; she is young, beautiful, clever, modest, 
and virtuous. In fact many an actress who takes like 
her the role of the ingenuous young girl is in reality all 
that she personates, though a frivolous and frequently 
licentious public will not credit it for a moment.” 

Herewith the pedant discreetly retired, having accom- 
plished, to his great satisfaction, what he had really 
feared to propose to the young baron, for whom he had 
conceived a very warm affection. 

Meanwhile the elegant Leander, indulging in delightful 
dreams of the possible fair chdtelaine who was to fall a 
victim to his charms, was making his careful toilet — 
arraying himself in his most resplendent finery, scupu- 
lously kept for grand occasions — convinced that great 
good fortune awaited him, and determined to carry the 
noble lady’s heart by storm. 

As to the actresses, to whom the gallant marquis, with 


AT THE CHATEAU BE BRUYERES. 8 / 


princely munificence, had sent several pieces of rich 
Stuffs and silks, it is needless to say that they spared no 
pains to make themselves as charming as possible, and 
obeyed the summons to dinner radiant with smiles and 
in high good humor — excepting indeed the fair Serafina, 
who was inwardly consumed with envy and spite, but 
careful to conceal it from all beholders. 

The marquis, who was of an ardent, impatient nature, 
made his appearance in the dining-room before they had 
quite finished the sumptuous repast which had been 
served to them ; he would not allow them to rise, but 
seated himself at the table with them, and when the 
last course had been removed, asked the tyrant to be 
good enough to give him a list of the plays they were in 
the habit of acting, so that he might select one for the 
evening’s entertainment. But so many were enumerated 
that his lordship found it not easy to make a choice, and 
expressed his desire to have the tyrant’s ideas upon the 
subject. 

“ There is one piece we often play,” Herode said, 
‘‘ which never fails to please, and is so full of good- 
natured fun and nonsense that it keeps the audience 
in a roar of laughter from the beginning to the 
end.” 

“ Let us have that one, by all means,” the marquis ex- 
claimed ; “ and pray what is the name of this delightful 
play ? ” 

“The Rodomontades of Captain Matamore.” 

“ A capital title, upon my word ! and has the soubreite 
a good part in it ? ” asked his lordship, with a languish- 
ing glance at her. 

“The most racy, mischievous role imaginable,” said 
Herode warmly, “ and she plays it to perfection — it is her 


88 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


chef d’oeuvre. She • is always applauded to the echo 
in it.” 

At this high praise from the manager, Zerbine — for 
such was the soubrettEs name — tried her best to get up a 
becoming blush, but in vain. Modesty she had none, 
and the tint she would fain have called into requisition at 
that moment was not contained in any of her numerous 
rouge-pots. So she cast down her eyes, thereby display- 
ing to advantage the length and thickness of her jet- 
black lashes, and raised her hand with a deprecating 
gesture, which called attention to its pretty, taper fingers 
and rosy nails. The marquis watched her admiringly, 
and she certainly was very charming in her way. He did 
not vouchsafe even a glance to the other two young 
actresses — refraining from testifying any marked admira- 
tion for Isabelle because of the prior claim of the Baron 
de Sigognac — though he was secretly very much delighted 
with her sweet, refined style of beauty, and the quiet 
dignity and grace of her deportment. Serafina, who was 
naturally indignant that the marquis had not even asked 
if there was a part for her in the piece to be performed, 
accused him in her heart of being no gentleman, and of 
having very low, vulgar tastes, but she was the only one 
of the party that felt any dissatisfaction. 

Before the marquis left them he said to Herode, “ I 
have given orders to have the orangery cleared so that 
our theatre can be arranged there ; they are carrying 
planks, trestles, benches, hangings, and all other needful 
articles in there now. Will you kindly superintend the 
workmen, who are new to this sort of business ? They 
will obey your orders as they would my own.” 

Accordingly the tyrant, Blazius and Scapin repaired to 
the orangery, which was at a little distance from the 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BE U YE RES. 89 


chateau and admirably calculated for the purpose it was 
now to serve, and where they found everything necessary 
to convert it into a temporary theatre. 

Whilst this work is going forward we will make our amia- 
ble, indulgent readers acquainted with the fair mistress of 
the chateau — having heretofore forgotten to mention that 
the Marquis de Bruyeres was a married man ; he thought 
of it so seldom himself that we may surely be pardoned 
for this omission. As can be readily imagined, from our 
last remark, love had not been the moving cause in this 
union. Adjoining estates, which, united in one, formed a 
noble domain, and equality of rank had been the chief 
considerations. After a very brief honeymoon, during 
which they had become painfully aware of a total want 
of congeniality, the marquis and marquise — like well-bred 
people, making no outcry about their matrimonial failure 
— had tacitly agreed to live amicably under the same 
roof, but entirely independent of each other — he to go 
his way and she hers, with perfect freedom. They al- 
ways treated each other in public, and indeed whenever 
they chanced to meet, with the greatest courtesy, and 
might easily have been mistaken by a casual observer for 
an unusually happy and united pair. Madame la Mar- 
quise occupied a sumptuous suite of apartments in the 
chateau, which her husband never thought of entering 
without first sending to ascertain whether it would be 
convenient for madame to receive him, like a formal vis- 
itor. But we will avail ourselves of the time-honored 
privilege of authors, and make our way into the noble 
chdtelaine's bed-chamber, without any form or ceremony 
— feeling sure of not disturbing its fair occupant, since 
the writer of a romance wears upon his finger the wonder- 
working ring of Gyges, which renders him invisible. 


90 


CAPTA/AT FRACASSE. 


It was a large, lofty room, hung with superb tapestry 
representing the adventures of Apollo, and replete with 
every luxury that wealth could procure. Here also a 
bright wood fire was burning cheerily, and the Marquise 
de Bruyeres sat before her dressing table, with two maids 
in attendance upon her, absorbed in the all-important 
business of putting the finishing touches to her extremely 
becoming as well as effective toilet. Madame la Mar- 
quise was a handsome brunette, whose embonpoint, which 
had succeeded to the slender outline of early youth, 
had added to her beauty ; her magnificent black hair, 
which was one of her ladyship’s greatest charms, was 
dressed in the most elaborate fashion — an intricate mass 
of glossy braids, puffs and curls, forming a lofty struc- 
ture, and ornamented with a large bow of crimson 
ribbon, while one long curl fell upon her fair neck, 
making it look all the whiter by contrast. Her dress of 
crimson silk, cut very low, displayed to advantage the 
plump, dimpled shoulders, and full snowy bosom, and 
from a band of black velvet round her throat was sus- 
pended a heart-shaped locket, set with superb rubies and 
brilliants. A white satin petticoat covered with priceless 
old lace, over which the crimson silk gown, open in front, 
was looped high upon the hips, and then swept back in a 
long, ample, richly trimmed train, completed the elegant 
toilet of Madame la Marquise. 

Jeanne, the favorite maid and confidante, held open 
the box of tiny, black “ mouches ” — without which no 
fashionable lady of that epoch considered herself fully 
equipped — while the Marquise placed one, with most 
happy effect, near the corner of her rather pretty mouth, 
and then hesitated some time before she could decide 
where to put the other, which she held ready on the tip 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRU VERES. 


9 ^ 


of her forefinger. The two maids stood motionless, 
breathlessly watching their mistress, as if fully impressed 
with the importance of this grave question, until at last 
the little black star found a resting-place just above the 
edge of the crimson silk bodice, to the left — indicating, 
in the accepted hieroglyphics of that age of gallantry, 
that he who aspired to the lips of the fair wearer must 
first win her heart. 

After a last lingering look in the mirror Madame la 
Marquise rose and walked slowly towards the fire, but 
suddenly remembering that there was yet one adornment 
wanting, turned back, and took from a beautiful casket 
standing open on the toilet-table, a large, thick watch — 
called in those days a Nuremberg egg — which was cu- 
riously enameled in a variety of bright colors, and set 
with brilliants. It hung from a short, broad chain of 
rich workmanship, which she hooked into her girdle, near 
another chain of the same description, from which de- 
pended a small hand-mirror in a pretty gold frame. 

“Madame is looking her loveliest to-day,” said Jeanne 
in flattering tones ; “ her hair is dressed to perfection, and 
her gown fits like a glove.” 

“ Do you really think so ? ” asked her mistress lan- 
guidly, and with affected indifference. “ It seems to me, 
on the contrary, that I am positively hideous. My eyes 
are sunken, and this color makes me look immensely 
stout. I have half a mind to exchange this dress for a 
black one now. What do you think, Jeanne ? Black 
makes people look slender, they say.” 

“ If madame insists upon it I can quickly make the ex- 
change ; but it would be a sad pity not to wear such an 
elegant and becoming costume as madame has on now.” 

“ Well, let it be then ; but it will be all your fault, 


92 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


Jeanne, if I fail to receive as much admiration as usual ; 
this evening. Do you know whether the marquis has 
invited many people to come and see this play ? ” | 

“ Yes, madame, several messengers have been sent olf ) 

on horseback in different directions, and there will be j 

sure to be a large gathering — they will come from all j 
the chateaux within driving distance — for such an oc- i 

casion as this is rare, here in the depths of the country.” ] 

“You are right,” said Madame la Maquise, with a | 

deep sigh, which was almost a groan ; “ we are buried j 

alive in this dreary place. And what about these play- j 

ers ? — have you seen them, Jeanne ? — are there any hand- ■ 

some young actors among them ? ” < 

“ I have only had a glimpse of them, madame, and j 

such people are so painted and fixed up, they say, that j 

it is hard to tell what they really do look like ; but i 

there was one slender young man, with long, black curls ^ 

and a very good figure, who had quite a grand air.” i 

“ That must be the lover, Jeanne, for it is always the 1 

best looking young actor in the troupe who takes that \ 

part. It would be ridiculous, you know, to have a stout j 

old codger, or a very ugly man, or even an awkward one, j 

making declarations of love, and going down on their j 

knees, and all that sort of thing — it would not do at all, 
Jeanne ! ” 

“ No, madame, it would not be very nice,” said the 
maid with a merry laugh, adding shrewdly, “ and although 
it seems to make very little difference what husbands may 
be like, lovers should always be everything that is charm- 
ing.” 

“ I confess that I have a weakness for those stage gal- 
lants,” Madame la Marquise said with a little sigh, “ they 
are so handsome, and so devoted — they always use such 



“AND INSTANTLY TAKING OFF HIS HAT WITH A GRAND 








V 


f 


* 


I 

. ^ 





0 



>• ■ 






4 


*• 


V 



^t7 • • 

* • •• 

, 4 • 


y 


< 









* 


l^v . 

T' 





^ *• 


\ 





T 





* 






t 


a 


f 




t 

i 




« 


‘-J * 



% 


i 





I 


• 4 



4 





« • 

/ 


r 


» 


I 




4 


« 


• • ' 



% 

% 

i * 

» 

4 

V 




4 


\ 


\ 


4 


% 


4 




I 





4* 


i 


« 





« 






« 


> • 


' 


» 


f 


« 


\ 


« 




« 1 



•1 


j 






4 








j 






t 


« > 


I 


. -i 


« 


I 


4 


9 



t 

r- 









4 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRU VERES. 93 

beautiful language, and make such graceful gestures — 
they are really irresistible. I cannot help feeling vexed 
when their impassioned appeals are received coldly, and 
they are driven to despair, as so often happens in plays ; 
I would like to call them to me and try to console them, 
the bewitching creatures ! ” 

“ That is because madame has such a kind heart that 
she can’t bear to see any one suffer without trying to help 
and comfort them,” said the specious Jeanne. “Now I am 
of quite a different mind — nothing I would like better 
than to flout a sentimental suitor ; fine words would not 
gain any favor with me — I should distrust them.” 

“ Oh ! you don’t understand the matter, Jeanne ! You 
have not read as many romances, or seen as many plays 
as I have. Did you say that young actor was very hand- 
some ? ” 

“ Madame la Marquise can judge for herself,” answered 
the maid, who had gone to the window, “ for he is just 
crossing the court this blessed minute, on his way to the 
orangery, where they are rigging up their theatre. 

Madame la Marquise hastened to the window, and there 
was Leander in full view, walking along slowly, appar- 
ently lost in thought, and wearing a tender, sad expression, 
which he considered especially effective and interesting 
— as we have said, he never for a moment forgot his role. 
As he drew near he looked up, as by a sudden inspira- 
tion, to the very window where the Marquise stood 
watching him, and instantly taking off his hat with a 
grand flourish, so that its long feather swept the ground, 
made a very low obeisance, such as courtiers make to a 
queen ; then drew himself up proudly to his full height, 
and darting an ardent glance of admiration and homage 
at the beautiful unknown, put on his broad felt hat again 


94 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


and went composedly on his way. It was admirably well 
done ; a genuine cavalier, familiar with all the gallant 
usages in vogue at court, could not have acquitted him- 
self better. Flattered by this mark of respect for her 
rank and admiration of her beauty, so gracefully ten- 
dered, Madame la Marquise could not help acknowledging 
it by a slight bend of the head, and a little half suppressed 
smile. These favorable signs did not escape Leander, 
who, with his usual self-conceit, took a most exaggerated 
view of their import. He did not for a moment doubt 
that the fair mistress of the chateau — for he took it for 
granted it was she — had fallen violently in love with him, 
then and there ; he felt sure that he had read it in her 
eyes and her smile. His heart beat tumultuously ; he 
trembled with excitement ; at last it had come ! the 
dream of his life was to be accomplished ; he, the poor, 
strolling player, had won the heart of a great lady ; his 
fortune was made ! He got through the rehearsal to 
which he had been summoned as best he might, and the 
instant it was over hastened back to his own room, to in- 
dite an impassioned appeal to his new divinity, and devise 
some means to insure its reaching her that same evening. 

As everything was in readiness the play was to begin 
as soon as the invited guests had all assembled. The 
orangery had been transformed into a charming little 
theatre, and was brilliantly lighted by many clusters of 
wax candles. Behind the spectators the orange trees had 
been arranged in rows, rising one above the other, and 
filled the air with their delicious fragrance. In the front 
row of seats, which was composed of luxurious arm-chairs, 
were to be seen the beautiful Yolande de Foix, the 
Duchesse de Montalban, the Baronne d’Hagemeau, the 
Marquise de Bruyeres, and many other titled dames, re- 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRU VERES. 95 


splendent in gorgeous array, and vying with each other 
in magnificence and beauty. Rich velvets, brilliant satins, 
cloth of silver and gold, misty laces, gay ribbons, white 
feathers, tiaras of diamonds, strings of pearls, superb 
jewels, glittering in delicate shell-like ears, on white necks 
and rounded arms, were in profusion, and the scene 
would have graced the court itself. If the surpassingly 
lovely Yolande de Foix had not been preseht, several 
radiant mortal goddesses in the exceptionally brilliant 
assemblage might have made it difficult for a Paris to 
decide between their rival claims to the golden apple ; 
but her beauty eclipsed them all, though it was rather 
that of the haughty Diana than the smiling Venus. Men 
raved about her, declared her irresistible, worshipped at 
her shrine, but never dared aspire to her love ; one scorn- 
ful glance from her cold blue eyes effectually extinguished 
any nascent hope, and the cruel beauty punished pre- 
sumption as relentlessly, and won and flung away hearts 
with as much nonchalance, as ever did her immortal pro- 
totype, the fair goddess of the chase. 

How was this exquisite creature dressed ? It would re- 
quire more sang-froid than we are possessed of to venture 
upon a description of her perfect toilet ; her raiment 
floated about her graceful form like a luminous cloud, 
in which one could think only of herself ; we believe, 
however, that there were clusters of pearls nestling amid 
the bright curls that made an aureola — a veritable golden 
glory — about her beautiful head. 

Behind these fair ladies sat or stood the nobles and 
gentlemen who had the honor of being their fathers, hus- 
bands, and brothers. Some were leaning forward to 
whisper soft nothings and dainty compliments into willing 
ears, others lounging and fanning themselves lazily with 


96 


CAPTATN FRACASSE. 


their broad felt hats, and others still standing in the back- 
ground looking admiringly at the pretty group before 
them. The hum of conversation filled the air, and a 
slight impatience was just beginning to manifest itself 
among the waiting audience, when the traditional three 
knocks were heard, and all suddenly subsided into si- 
lence. 

The curtain rose slowly and revealed a very pretty 
scene representing a public square where several streets 
met, surrounded by picturesque houses with small latticed 
windows, overhanging gables, high peaked roofs, and 
smoke curling upwards from the slender chimneys against 
the blue sky. One of these houses had a practicable 
door and window, whilst two of those in the side scenes 
enjoyed equal advantages, and one of them was furnished 
with a balcony. A few trees were scattered about in 
front of the houses, and, though the painting was not 
of the highest order of scenic art, the general effect was 
very good, and won a round of applause from the aristo- 
cratic audience. The piece opens with a quarrel between 
the testy old bourgeois^ Pandolphe, and his daughter, Isa- 
belle, who, being in love with a handsome young suitor, 
obstinately refuses to obey her father’s commands and 
marry a certain Captain Matamore, with whom he is per- 
fectly infatuated. She is ably supported in her resistance 
by her pretty maid, Zerbine, who is well paid by Leander, 
the favored lover, to espouse his cause. To all the curses 
and abuse that Pandolphe showers upon her, she answers 
gayly with the most exasperating and amusing imperti- 
nences, advising him to marry this fine captain himself if 
he is so fond of him ; as for her part she will never suffer 
her dear, beautiful mistress to become the wife of that 
horrid old codger, that abominable bully, that detestable 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. 97 


scarecrow ! Whereupon Pandolphe, furiously angry, 
orders her into the house, so that he may speak to his 
daughter alone ; and when she refuses to obey, and defies 
him to make her, he takes her by the shoulders and at- 
tempts to force her to go, but she, bending forward with 
admirable elasticity, from the waist only, at each vigorous 
effort of his, stands her ground and does not budge one 
inch from her place, breaking into peals of laughter at 
every fresh attempt, and accompanying it all with an 
irresistibly saucy, comical by-play, that wins her round 
after round of enthusiastic applause — whilst the Marquis 
de Bruyeres, enchanted with her spirited acting, congratu- 
lates himself anew upon the happy chance that threw this 
charming creature in his way. 

Another character now enters upon the scene, looking 
cautiously about him at every step, as if he feared an un- 
pleasant surprise. This is Leander, the horror of fathers, 
husbands, and guardians, the delight of wives, daughters, 
and wards — in one word, the lover — the very beau-ideal 
of a lover ; young, handsome, ardent, ready for anything, 
winning over strict old duennas, bribing pert waiting- 
maids, climbing up rope-ladders, overcoming every ob- 
stacle to reach the fair mistress of his affections, and 
kneeling at her feet to pour out burning protestations of 
love and devotion, that no mortal woman could ever re- 
sist. Suddenly perceiving that Pandolphe is here, where 
he only expected to find Isabelle, Leander stops and 
throws himself into an attitude, which he has frequently 
practised before the mirror, and which, he flatters him- 
self, shows his handsome person to great advantage^ 
standing with his weight thrown upon the left leg, the right 
one advanced and slightly bent at the knee ; one hand 
on the hilt of his sword, the other stroking his chin, so as 
5 


98 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


to make the big diamond on his finger flash in the light, 
and a slight smile playing about his lips. He really did look 
very handsome as he stood there, and was greatly admired 
by all the ladies — even the haughty Yolande herself not 
disdaining to smile upon him approvingly. Profiting by 
the opportunity that this pause gave him, Leander fixed 
his eyes upon the Marquise de Bruyeres, with such a look 
of passionate entreaty and admiration that she blushed 
crimson in spite of herself under his ardent gaze ; then 
he turned reluctantly towards Isabelle, with an absent, in- 
different air, which he intended should indicate to the 
fair object of his aspirations the difference between real 
and simulated passion. 

When Pandolphe becomes aware of the presence of 
Leander he is more furious than ever, and hustles his 
daughter and her maid into the house as quickly as pos- 
sible, not, however, without Zerbine’s finding means to 
take from Leander a note for Isabelle, which she slips 
into the pocket of her coquettish little apron. The young 
man, left alone with the irate father, assures him in the 
most respectful manner that his intentions are honorable ; 
that he asks the hand of his fair daughter in marriage ; 
that he is of gentle birth, has an ample fortune, and is in 
high favor at court ; that nothing could ever induce him 
to give up Isabelle ; he is ready to risk everything to win 
her, for he loves her better than his life — delicious words, 
which the young girl listens to with rapture from her 
balcony, whence she makes little signs of approval and 
encouragement to her lover, quite unknown to the stern 
father, whose back is turned to her, and who believes her 
safely locked up in the house. Despite the mellifluous 
eloquence of the ardent young suitor Pandolphe remains 
obstinate and unmoved, and swears by all the gods that 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. 99 

either he will have Captain Matamore for his son-in-law, 
or his refractory daughter shall be shut up in a convent 
and forced to become a nun. Off he bustled in hot haste 
to find a notary and have the contract of marriage drawn 
without further delay. 

As soon as he is out of sight Leander tries to persuade 
Isabelle — who is still in her balcony, her father having 
carried off the key of the street door in his pocket — to 
consent to fly from such persecution, and accompany him 
to the cell of a certain holy hermit whom he knows, and 
who is always willing and ready to marry runaway couples 
like themselves, whose loves are thwarted by tyrannical 
parents. But the young girl answers modestly, yet firm- 
ly, that, although she wishes nothing so earnestly as to be 
permitted to bestow her hand upon her faithful Leander, 
who already has her heart, she cannot disobey her father, 
for that she, like all dutiful daughters, is in duty bound 
to respect and submit to the commands of the author of 
her being ; but she promises never to marry the detested 
Captain Matamore — she will go into the convent rather 
than listen to him for a moment. Unable to shake her 
decision Leander then retires to devise plans, with the 
aid of his clever valet, to overcome the formidable ob- 
stacles in his way — more than ever determined not to 
give up the fair Isabelle, and promising her to return in 
the evening and report progress. 

Isabelle retires from her balcony and closes her win- j 
dow, and a moment after Captain Matamore strides 
fiercely upon the stage — his appearance is greeted with 
peals of laughter — his tall, attenuated figure is encased 
in an absurd costume, in which the bright red and yellow 
stripes of his tunic meet in points in front and behind, 
whilst they run spirally round his long, thin arms and legs, 


100 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


producing the most preposterously comical effect imagin- 
able ; a stiffly-starched ruff, immensely broad, encircles 
his neck, upon which his head seems to be set, like that 
of John the Baptist on the charger ; a large felt hat, 
turned up at one side, and ornamented with a huge tuft 
of red and yellow feathers, is stuck jauntily on his head, 
and a short cloak of the same colors, fastened round his 
neck and thrown back from his shoulders, floats behind 
him. He wears an enormous sword, whose heavily 
weighted hilt keeps the point always raised and standing 
out prominently behind him, whilst from it dangles a 
clever imitation of a spider’s web — a convincing proof of 
how much he is in the habit of making use of this for- 
midable weapon. Closely followed by his valet, Scapin, 
who is in imminent danger of having an eye put out by 
the end of his master’s big sword, he marches several 
times around the stage, taking preternaturally long strides, 
rolling his eyes about fiercely, twisting the long ends of 
his huge moustache, and indulging in a variety of ridicu- 
lous gestures indicative of exaggerated rage and fury, 
which are irresistibly funny — all the more so because 
there is nothing whatever to provoke this display of feroc- 
ity. Finally he stops in front of the footlights, strikes an 
attitude, and delivers himself thus : “ For to-day, Scapin, 
I am willing to let my man-killer here have a little rest, so 
that there may be an opportunity to get all its recent vic- 
tims decently buried, in the cemeteries I contribute so 
largely towards filling. When a man has performed such 
feats of courage and carnage as I have — killing my hun- 
dreds single-handed, while my dastardly comrades trem- 
bled with fear, or turned and fled from the foe — to say 
nothing, of my daily affairs of honor, now that the wars 
are over — he may assuredly indulge himself occasionally 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRU VERES. 


lOI 


in milder amusements. Besides, the whole civilized 
world, having now been subjugated by my good sword, no 
longer offers any resistance to my indomitable arm, and 
Atropos, the eldest of the dread Parcoe sisters, has sent 
word to me that the fatal scissors, with which she cuts 
the threads of human lives, have become so dulled by the 
great amount of work my trusty blade has given her to 
do with them, that she has been obliged to send them to 
Vulcan to be sharpened, and she begs for a short respite. 
So you see, Scapin, I must put force upon myself and re- 
strain my natural ardor — refrain for a time from wars, 
massacres, sacking of cities, stand-up fights with giants, 
killing of monsters and dragons, like Theseus and Her- 
cules of glorious memory, and all the other little pas- 
times which usually occupy my good sword and me. I 
will take my ease now for a brief period, and Death may 
enjoy a short rest too. But to whom did my worthy pro- 
totype, Mars, the great god of war, devote Ms leisure 
hours ? in whose sweet society did M find delight ? Ask 
Venus, the immortal goddess of love and beauty, who 
had the good taste to prefer a warlike man to all others, 
and lent a willing ear to the suit of my valiant predeces- 
sor. So I, following his illustrious example, condescend 
to turn my attention for the moment to the gentler sex, 
and pay my court to the fair Isabelle, the young and 
beautiful object of my ardent love. Being aware that 
Cupid, with all his assurance, would not dare to aim one 
of his golden-tipped arrows at such an all-conquering 
hero as my unworthy self, I have given him a little en- 
couragement ; and, in order that the shaft may penetrate 
to the generous lion’s heart that beats in this broad breast, 
I have laid aside the world-famed coat of mail — made of 
the rings given to me by goddesses, empresses, queens, in- 


102 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


fantas, princesses, and great ladies of every degree, my il- 
lustrious admirers the world over — which is proof against 
all weapons, and has so often saved my life in my mad- 
dest deeds of daring.” 

“ All of which signifies,” interrupts the valet, who has 
listened to this high-flown tirade with ill-concealed im- 
patience, “ as far as my feeble intellect can comprehend 
such magnificent eloquence, that your most redoubtable 
lordship has fallen in love with some young girl here- 
abouts, like any ordinary mortal.” 

“Really, Scapin,” says Matamore, with good-humored 
condescension, “ you have hit the nail upon the head — 
you are not so stupid after all, for a valet. Yes, I have 
fallen in love, but do not imagine for a moment that my 
courage will suffer diminution on that account. It was 
all very well for Samson to allow his hair to be cut off, 
and for Alcides to handle the distaff at the bidding of 
his mistress ; but Delilah would not have dared to touch 
one hair of my head, and Omphale should have pulled 
off my boots for me— at the least sign of revolt I would 
have given her worse to do : cleaning the skin of the 
Nemaean lion, for instance, when I brought it home all 
fresh and bleeding, just as I had torn it from the quiver- 
ing carcass. The thought that has lately occurred to 
me, that I have subjugated only half of the human race, 
is humiliating. Women, by reason of their weakness, 
escape me ; I cannot treat them as I do my masculine 
opponents — cut their throats, run them through the body, 
or hew off their arms and legs ; I must lay siege to their 
hearts, and conquer them in that way. It is true that I 
have stormed and taken a greater number of such fair 
citadels than there are drops of water in the ocean, or 
stars in the sky — why, I sleep on a mattress stuffed with 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. IO3 

thousands of beautiful curls and tresses of every shade, 
light and dark, golden and jet-black, which are among 
my most treasured trophies. Juno herself has made 
overtures to me, but I turned a deaf ear to her blandish- 
ments, finding her charms rather too ripe for my taste ; 
I prefer the first flush of youthful beauty ; it is a pure 
and innocent maiden that I would honor with my notice 
now, but she repulses me — that I should live to say it ! — 
she dares to repulse me. I cannot permit such an im- 
pertinence on her part, and the fair Isabelle must hum- 
bly sue to me for pardon, and herself bringing the golden 
keys of the citadel of her heart, upon a salver of silver, 
offer them to me upon her bended knees, with streaming 
eyes and dishevelled tresses, begging for grace and favor 
in my sight. Go now, and summon the fortress to sur- 
render — this house contains the rebellious fair.” 

But doors and windows remain inexorably closed, and 
no notice is taken of the valet’s thundering knocks and 
mocking summons to surrender ; secure in the strength 
of their bolts and bars, the garrison, which consists of 
Isabelle and her maid, vouchsafes no reply. Matamore, 
becoming more enraged at each vain attempt to gain a 
response from his fair enemy, stamps about the stage, 
roaring out his defiance, threatening to sack and burn 
the place, pouring out volleys of remarkable oaths, and 
lashing himself into such a fury that he actually foams 
at the mouth. When his valet at length, after many vain 
efforts, is able to gain a hearing, and tells him of his for- 
midable rival, Leander, and how he has already won the 
lady’s heart, all his rage is turned against that fortunate 
suitor, of whom he vows that he will make mince-meat as 
soon as he can lay hands on him. At this very moment 
Leander himself returns, and Scapin points him out to 


104 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


his master as he approaches, adding that he will keep a 
sharp look-out for the police while Matamore is giving 
him his quietus. But the cowardly braggadocio would 
fain withdraw, now that the enemy is actually in sight, 
and is only restrained from flight by his servant, who 
pushes him forward directly in Leander’s path. 

Seeing that escape is impossible, Matamore settles his 
hat firmly on his head, twists the long ends of his mous- 
tache, puts his hand on the hilt of his big sword, and 
advances threateningly towards Leander — but it is pure 
bravado, for his teeth are chattering with fear, and his 
long, thin legs waver and tremble under him visibly, like 
reeds shaken by the wind. Only one hope remains to 
him — that of intimidating Leander by loud threats and 
ferocious gestures, if, by a happy chance, he be a fellow 
of his own kidney. So in a terrible voice he addresses 
him thus : 

Sir, do you know that I am the great Captain Mata- 
more of the celebrated house of Cuerno de Cornazan, 
and allied to the no less illustrious family of Escobombar- 
don de la Papirontonda ? I am a descendant, on my moth- 
er’s side, of the famous Antaeus, the ancient hero and 
giant.” 

“Well, you may be a descendant of the man in the 
moon for all that I care,” answers Leander, with a dis- 
dainful shrug of the shoulders ; “ what the devil have I to 
do with such absurd stuff and nonsense ? ” 

“ Blood and bones ! thunder and Mars ! You shall see, 
sir, you shall see, and that very quickly, what you have 
to do with it, unless you take yourself off in the twin- 
kling of an eye. I will give you one minute’s grace, for 
your extreme youth touches me, so take to your heels 
and fly while there is yet time. Observe me well ! I am 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. I05 

the terror of the whole world — my path is marked with 
graves— my own shadow scarcely dares to follow me into 
the perils I delight in. If I enter a besieged city, it is by 
the breach when I quit it I pass under a triumphal arch ; 
■ if I cross a river, it is one of blood, and the bridge is 
made of the bodies of my adversaries. I can toss a 
knight and his horse, both weighted with armor, high in- 
to the air. I can snap elephants’ bones, as you would 
pipe-stems. When great Mars himself chances to meet 
me on the battle-field he turns and flees, dreading the 
weight of my arm. My prowess is so well known, and the 
terror I inspire so great, that no one dares to meet me 
face to face, and I never see anything but the backs of 
my retreating foes.” 

“ Is it so ? well, you shall meet me face to face. Take 
that^ and see how you like it ! ” says Leander laughing 
merrily, and giving him a sounding slap on one cheek 
which almost knocks the poor devil over, and is instantly 
followed by an equally hearty one on the other, to re- 
store his equilibrium. 

During this scene Isabelle and Zerbine come out upon 
the balcony. The mischievous soubreite goes into convul- 
sions of laughter, whilst her mistress nods encouragingly 
to Leander. Meantime Pandolphe, accompanied by the 
notary, turns the corner of one of the streets and enters 
the square just in time to see Leander’s extraordinary 
exploit, whereat he is horrified and amazed. The valiant 
captain bellows like a bull, shrieks out the most frightful 
threats and curses, vowing all sorts of vengeance, and 
making prodigious efforts to draw his big sword, so that 
he may forthwith set about cutting up his unmannerly 
assailant into mihce-meat. He tugs and strains until he 
is red in the face, but his “man-killer” cannot be in- 
5 * 


io6 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


duced to quit the scabbard, and Leander, growing impa- 
tient, follows up his first attack with a vigorous, well di- 
rected kick, which sends the unlucky bully flying to the 
other side of the stage, where he falls all in a heap and 
rolls in the dust. The handsome, young gallant then bows 
gracefully to Isabelle and retires from the scene. 

Captain Matamore meanwhile lies sprawling on the 
ground, making ludicrous and ineffectual efforts to regain 
his feet. Pandolphe and Scapin go to his assistance, and 
when they have hauled him up, and he has made sure 
that Leander is no longer present, he roars out in a voice 
of thunder : “ Scapin, quick, hoop me with iron bands or 
I shall burst ! I am in such a rage ! I shall explode like a 
bomb ! and you, treacherous blade, do you play me false 
at such a moment ? Is it thus you reward me for having 
always tried to slake your insatiable thirst with the blood 
of the bravest and noblest ? I don’t know why I have 
not already broken you into a thousand pieces, as you so 
richly deserve — false, ungrateful weapon that you are ! 
But stay — was it to teach me that it is unworthy of the 
true warrior to desert his post ? — or forget his sterner du- 
ties in the soft delights of love ? — was it for that you re- 
fused to leap from your scabbard as of old ? It is true, 
alas ! that thus far this week I have not defeated a single 
army — I have killed neither ogre nor dragon — I have not 
furnished his usual rations to Death — and in consequence 
my trusty blade has rusted in the scabbard — that I 
should live to say it ! rusted ! — and I have been forced 
to submit to insults, and even blows, before the very eyes 
of my mistress. What a lesson ! Henceforth I shall make 
it a rule to kill at least three men every morning before I 
break my fast, so as to be sure that my good sword plays 
freely — keep me in mind, Scapin, do you hear ? ” 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. 

“ Perhaps Leander will return before long,” says the 
valet ; “ suppose we all help you to draw your ‘ trusty blade^' 
so that you may be ready for him.” 

Matamore, accordingly, plants himself firmly, holding 
the scabbard in both hands, Scapin seizes the handle of 
the sword, Pandolphe clasps him firmly round the waist, 
the notary tries to do as much by Pandolphe’s stout per- 
son, and they all pull and pull. For some time the rusty 
old sword resists all their efforts, but at last yields sud- 
denly, and the three fall in a confused heap on the 
ground, with legs and arms waving wildly in the air, 
while Matamore tumbles the other way, still clinging to 
the now empty scabbard, Picking himself up as quickly 
as possible he seizes his big sword, which has dropped 
from the valet’s hand, and waving it triumphantly says 
with stern emphasis, “ Now Leander’s fate is sealed ! 
There is but one way for him to escape certain death. He 
must emigrate to some distant planet. If he be sufficient- 
ly fool-hardy to remain on this globe I will find him, no 
matter in what distant land he strives to hide himself, 
and transfix him with this good sword — unless indeed 
he be first turned to stone by the terrible Medusa-like 
power of my eye.” 

In spite of all that he has witnessed, the obstinate old 
father still feels unbounded faith in Matamore’s valor, 
and persists in his lamentable intention to bestow the 
hand of his fair daughter upon this magnificent hero. 
Poor Isabelle bursts into tears, and declares that she 
prefers the convent to such a fate. Zerbine loudly 
swears that this marriage shall never take place, and 
tries to console her weeping mistress. Matamore .at- 
tributes this rather discouraging demonstration on the 
part of Isabelle to an excess of maidenly modesty, not 



io8 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


doubting her penchant for himself, though he acknowl- 
edges that he has not yet properly paid his court, nor 
shown himself in all his glory to her — this last from pru- 
dential motives, fearing lest she might be dangerously 
dazzled and overwhelmed if he should burst upon her too 
suddenly in the full splendor of his heroic character, 
remembering, and taking warning by, the sad and terri- 
ble fate that befell Semele, when Jupiter, reluctantly 
yielding to her wishes, appeared before her with all the 
insignia of his majesty. 

Isabelle and her maid withdraw from the balcony, 
without taking any further notice of the valiant Mata- 
more ; but he, undaunted, wishing to play the lover after 
the most approved fashion, plants himself resolutely 
under her window and sends Scapin to fetch a guitar ; 
upon which he thrums awkwardly for a while, and then 
accompanies it with his voice, in an attempt at a Spanish 
love song, which sounds more like the nocturnal cater- 
wauling of a disconsolate tabby than anything else we 
can compare it to. A dash of cold water, mischievously 
thrown down on him by Zerbine under pretext of water- 
ing the plants in the balcony, does not extinguish his 
musical ardor. “ A gentle shower from the sweet eyes 
of my Isabelle, moved to tears by this plaintive melody,” 
says he, “ for it is universally conceded that I excel in 
music as in arms, and wield the lyre as skilfully as the 
sword.” 

Unfortunately for him, Leander suddenly reappears, and 
highly indignant that this miserable rascal should pre- 
sume to serenade his mistress, snatches the guitar from 
his hands and begins whacking him over the head with 
it, so furiously that it is quickly broken through,' and 
slipping over the unhappy serenader’s head remains fixed 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BE U VERES. IO9 

round his neck, so that he is completely at the mercy of 
his assailant. Holding fast to the handle of the guitar, 
Leander hauls him about the stage, banging him against 
the side-scenes, dragging him forward to the footlights — 
making the most absurd scene imaginable — and finally, 
letting go of him suddenly, sends him sprawling on the 
ground. Fancy the ridiculous appearance of the unfor- 
tunate bully, who looked as if he had put his head 
through a frying-pan ? 

But his miseries are not yet at an end. Leander’s 
valet had been arranging a clever little plot to prevent 
the fulfillment of the proposed marriage between Isabelle 
and Captain Matamore. At his instigation, a certain 
Doralice, very pretty and coquettish, makes her appear- 
ance, accompanied by a fierce-looking brother — repre- 
sented by Herode — carrying two immensely long rapiers 
under his arm, and evidently “spoiling for a fight.” 
The young lady complains that she has been shamefully 
jilted by Captain Matamore, who has deserted her for 
Isabelle, the daughter of a certain Pandolphe, and 
demands instant reparation for this outrage, adding 
that her brother is ready to exact it at the point of the 
sword, or avenge the insult by taking the life of the 
heartless villain who has trifled with her youthful affec- 
tions. 

“ Make haste to give this rascal his quietus,” says 
Pandolph to his future son-in-law ; “ it will be only 
child’s play for you, who have fearlessly encountered, 
single-handed, a whole army of Saracens.” 

Very reluctantly, and after many most absurd grim- 
aces, Matamore crosses swords with Doralice’s ferocious 
brother, but he trembles so that the. latter, with one 
quick movement, sends his weapon flying out of his 


I lO 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


hand, and chastises him with the flat of his sword until 
he roars for mercy. 

To cap the climax, Madame Leonarde comes upon the 
scene, mopping her streaming eyes with an enormous 
pocket-handkerchief, sighing and sobbing, and bewailing 
herself. She goes straight to Pandolphe and shows him 
a written promise of marriage, over Matamore’s signature, 
cleverly counterfeited ; whereupon the poor wretch, con- 
victed of such abominable and complicated perfidy, is as- 
sailed with a new shower of blows and curses, and finally 
condemned, by the unanimous vote of all present, to 
marry old Madame Leonarde — who has made herself as 
hideous as possible — as a fitting punishment for all his 
deviltries, rodomontades, and cowardice. Pandolphe, 
thoroughly disgusted with Matamore at last, makes no 
further objections to Leander’s suit, and the curtain falls 
as he gives his consent to the marriage of the two young 
lovers. 

This bouffonnade^ being played with great spirit, 
was enthusiastically applauded. The gentlemen were 
charmed with the mischievous, coquettish soubrette^ who 
was fairly radiant with beauty that evening ; the ladies 
were greatly pleased with Isabelle’s refinement and 
modesty ; whilst Matamore received the well merited 
encomiums of all. It would have been impossible to 
find, even in the great Parisian theatres, an actor better 
fitted for the part he had played so admirably. Leander 
was much admired by all the younger ladies, but the 
gentlemen agreed, without a dissenting voice, that he 
was a horridly conceited coxcomb. Wherever he ap- 
peared indeed this was the universal verdict, with which 
he was perfectly content — caring far more for his hand- 
some person, and the effect it produced upon the fair sex. 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. 


Ill 


than for his art ; though, to do him justice, he was a 
very good actor. Serafina’s beauty did not fail to find 
admirers, and more than one young gentleman swore by 
his moustache that she was an adorable creature — quite 
regardless of the displeasure of the fair ladies within 
hearing. 

During the play, de Sigognac, hidden in the coulisses, 
had enjoyed intensely Isabelle’s charming rendering of 
her part, though he was more than a little jealous of the 
favor she apparently bestowed upon Leander — and espe- 
cially at the tender tone of her voice whenever she spoke 
to him — not being yet accustomed to the feigned love- 
making on the stage, which often covers profound antip- 
athies and real enmity. When the play was over, he 
complimented the young actress with a constrained, em- 
barrassed air, which she could not help remarking, and 
perfectly understood. 

“ You play that part admirably, Isabelle ! so well that 
one might almost think there was some truth in it.” 

“ Is it not my duty to do so ? ” she asked smilingly, 
secretly pleased at his displeasure ; “ did not the manager 
engage me for that ? ” 

“ Doubtless,” de Sigognac replied, “but you seemed to 
be really in love with that conceited fellow, who never 
thinks of anything but his own good looks, and how to 
display them to the best advantage.” 

“ But the role required it. You surely would not have 
had me play it as if he disgusted me ! besides, did I not 
preserve throughout the quiet demeanor of a well-bred, 
respectable girl ? If I failed in that you must tell me how 
and where, so that I may endeavor to correct it in future.” 

“ Oh no ! you appeared from the beginning to the end 
like a modest, retiring, young lady — no, there is no fault 


12 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


to be found with you in that respect ; your acting was 
inimitable— so graceful, lady-like, and easy — but withal 
so true to nature that it was almost too real.” 

“ My dear baron, they are putting out the lights ; 
everybody has gone but ourselves, and we shall be left 
in the dark if we don’t make haste. Be good enough to 
throw this cloak around my shoulders and accompany me 
to the chateau.” 

De Sigognac acquitted himself of this novel duty with 
less awkwardness than might have been expected, though 
his hands trembled a little, and he felt an almost irresisti- 
ble desire to take her into his arms as he wrapped the 
mantle round her slender form; but he restrained himself, 
and respectfully offering his arm led her out of the 
orangery, which by this time was entirely deserted. It 
was, as we have said, at a little distance from the chateau, 
and on the level of the park, lower than the mansion, which 
stood on a high terrace, with a handsome stone balustrade 
at the edge, supporting at regular intervals large vases 
filled with blooming plants, in the pretty Italian fashion. 
A broad, easy flight of stone steps led up to the terrace, 
affording in their ascent a most imposing view of the 
chateau, which loomed up grandly against the evening 
sky. Many of the windows on this side were lighted, 
whilst the others glistened brightly as the silvery moon- 
beams struck upon them — as did also the dewdrops on 
the shrubberry and the grass-plots — as if a shower of 
diamonds had fallen on this favored spot. Looking to- 
wards the park, the long vistas cut through the wood, 
losing themselves in the hazy blue of the distance, called 
to mind Breughel’s famous picture of Paradise, or else 
disclosed the far away gleam of a marble statue, or the 
spray of a misty fountain sparkling in the moonlight. 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. II3 

Isabelle and de Sigognac slowly ascended the broad 
steps, pausing frequently to turn and look back at this 
enchanting scene, and charmed with the beauty of the 
night walked for a little while to and fro upon the terrace 
before retiring to their rooms. As they were in full sight 
of the windows, and it was not yet very late, the modest 
young girl felt that there could be no impropriety in this 
little indulgence ; and besides, the baron’s extreme timid- 
ity was very reassuring to her, and she knew that he 
would not presume upon the favor accorded to him. He 
had not made a formal avowal of his love to her, but she 
was as well aware of it as if he had, and also of his pro- 
found respect for her, which sentiment is indeed always 
an accompaniment of a worthy passion. She knew her- 
self beloved — the knowledge was very sweet to her — 
and she felt herself safe from all fear of offence in the 
company of this honorable gentleman and true lover. 
With the delicious embarrassment of nascent, unavowed 
love, this young couple wandering by moonlight in a 
lonely garden, side by side, arm in arm, only exchanged 
the most insignificant, commonplace remarks ; but if no 
undercurrent was betrayed by actual words, the trembling 
voices, long pauses, stifled sighs, and low, confidential 
tones told of strong emotions beneath this quiet surface. 

The chamber assigned to the beautiful Yolande de 
Foix, near that of Madame la Marquise, was on this side 
of the chateau, overlooking the park, and after she had 
dismissed her maid, she w'ent to the window to look out 
once more upon the exceeding beauty of the night, and 
caught sight of de Sigognac and Isabelle, pacing slowly 
back and forth on the terrace below, without any other 
company than their own shadows. Assuredly the dis- 
dainful Yolande, haughty as a goddess, could never have 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


1 14 

felt anything but scorn for our poor young bardn, past 
whom she had sometimes flashed in a whirlwind of light 
and noise in the chase, and whom she had so recently 
cruelly insulted ; but still it displeased her to see him 
devoting himself thus to a beautiful young girl, to whom 
he was undoubtedly making love at that very moment. 
She had regarded him as her own humble vassal — for 
she had not failed to read the passionate admiration in 
his eyes whenever they met her own — and could not 
brook his shaking off his allegiance thus ; her slaves 
ought to live and die in her service, even though their 
fidelity were never rewarded by a single smile. She 
watched them, with a frowning brow, until they disap- 
peared, and then sought her couch in anything but a 
tranquil mood, haynted by the lover-like pair that had 
so roused her wrath, and still kept her long awake. 

De Sigognac escorted Isabelle to the door of her 
chamber, where he bade her good-night, and as he turned 
away towards his own, saw, at the end of the corridor, a 
mysterious looking individual closely wrapped in a large 
cloak, with one end thrown over the shoulder in Spanish 
fashion, and so drawn up round his face that only the 
eyes were visible ; a slouch hat concealed his forehead, 
so that he was completely disguised, yet he drew back 
hurriedly into a dark corner when de Sigognac turned 
towards him, as if to avoid his notice. The baron knew 
that the comedians had all gone to their rooms already, 
and besides, it could not be one of them, for the tyrant 
was much larger and taller, the pedant a great deal 
stouter, Leander more slender, Matamore much thinner, 
and Scapin of quite a different make. Not wishing to 
appear curious, or to annoy the unknown in any way, de 
Sigognac hastened to enter his own room — not however 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BE U YE RES. 


15 


without having observed that the door of the tapestry- 
hung chamber stood ajar. When he had closed his, he 
heard stealthy footsteps approaching, and presently a 
bolt shot home softly, then profound silence. 

About an hour later, Leander opened his door as qui- 
etly as possible, looked carefully to see if the corridor 
was empty, and then, stepping as lightly and cautiously 
as a Gypsy performing the famous egg-dance, traversed 
its whole length, reached the staircase, which he de- 
scended as noiselessly as the phijntoms in a haunted cas- 
tle, and passed out into the moonlight ; he crept along 
in the shadow of the wall and of some thick shrub- 
bery, went down the steps into the park, and made his 
way to a sort of bower, where stood a charming statue of 
the mischievous little god of love, with his finger on his 
lip — an ^appropriate presiding genius of a secret rendez- 
vous, as this evidently must be. Here he stopped and 
waited, anxiously watching the path by which he had 
come, and listening intently to catch the first sound of 
approaching footsteps. 

We have already related how Leander, encouraged by 
the smile with which Madame la Marquise acknowledged 
his salutation, and convinced that she was smitten with 
his beauty and grace, had made bold to address a letter 
to her, which he bribed Jeanne to place secretly upon 
her mistress’s toilet-table, where she would be sure to see 
it. This letter we copy here at length, so as to give an 
idea of the style of composition employed by Leander 
in addressing the great ladies of whose favors he boasted 
so loudly. 

“ Madame, or rather fair goddess of beauty, do not 
blame anything but your own incomparable charms for 
this intrusion upon you. I am forced by their radiance 


i6 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


to emerge from the deep shadow in which I should 
remain shrouded, and approach their dazzling brilliancy 
— just as the dolphins are attracted from the depths of 
ocean by the brightness of the fisherman’s lanterns, 
though they are, alas ! to find destruction there, and 
perish by the sharp harpoons hurled pitilessly at them 
with unerring aim. I know but too well that the waves 
will be reddened by my blood ; but as I cannot live 
without your favor, I do not fear to meet death thus. It 
may be strangely audacious on my part to pretend to the 
privileges of gods and demi-gods — to die by your fair 
hand — but I dare to aspire to it ; being already in de- 
spair, nothing worse can come to me, and I would rather 
incur your wrath than your scorn, or your disdain. In 
order to direct the fatal blow aright, the executioner must 
look upon his victim, and I shall have, in yielding up my 
life under your fair, cruel hand, the supreme delight of 
being for one blissful moment the object of your regard. 
Yes, I love you, madame ! I adore you ! And if it be 
a crime, I cannot repent of it. God suffers himself to 
be adored ; the stars receive the admiration of the hum- 
blest shepherd ; it is the fate of all such lofty perfection 
as yours to be beloved, adored, only by inferior beings, 
since it has not its equal upon earth, nor scarcely indeed 
in heaven. I, alas ! am but a poor, wandering actor, yet 
were I a haughty duke or prince, my head would not be 
on a level with your beauteous feet, and there would 
be, all the same, between your heavenly height and my 
kneeling adoration, as great a distance as from the soar- 
ing summit of the -loftiest Alp to the yawning abyss far, 
far below. You must always stoop to reach a heart 
that adores you. I dare to say, madame, that mine is as 
proud as it is tender, and she who would deign not to 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. II7 

repulse it, would find in it the most ardent love, the 
most perfect delicacy, the most absolute respect, and 
unbounded devotion. Besides, if such divine happiness 
be accorded me, your indulgence would not have to 
stoop so low as you might fancy. Though reduced by 
an adverse destiny, and the jealous hatred of one of the 
great ones of the earth, who must be nameless, to the 
dire necessity of hiding myself under this disguise, I am 
not what I seem. I do not need to blush for my birth 
— rather I may glory in it. If I dared to betray the 
secrecy imposed upon me, for reasons of state, I could 
prove to you that most illustrious blood runs in my 
veins. Whoever may love me, noble though she be, will 
not degrade herself. But I have already said too much 
— my lips are sealed. I shall never be other than the 
humblest, most devoted of your slaves ; even though, 
by one of those strange coincidences that happen some- 
times in real life, I should come to be recognized by 
all the world as a king’s son. If in your great good- 
ness you will condescend to show me, fair goddess of 
beauty, by the slightest sign, that my boldness has not 
angered you, I shall die happy, consumed by the burn- 
ing brightness of your eyes upon the funeral pyre of 
my love.” 

How would Madame la Marquise have received this ar- 
dent epistle ? which had perhaps done him good service 
already more than once. Would she have looked favor- 
ably upon her humble suitor ? — who can tell ? — -for the 
feminine heart is past comprehension. Unfortunately the 
letter did not reach her. Being entirely taken up with 
great ladies, Leander overlooked their waiting-maids, and 
did not trouble himself to show them any attentions or 
gallantries — wherein he made a sad mistake — for if the 


ii8 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


pistoles he gave to Jeanne, with his precious epistle, had 
been suplemented by a few kisses and compliments, she 
would have taken far more pains to execute his commis- 
sion. As she held the letter carelessly in her hand, the 
marquis chanced to pass by, and asked her idly what 
she had got there. 

“Oh ! nothing much,” she answered scornfully, “only 
' a note from Mr. Leander to Madame la Marquise.” 

“ From Leander ? that jackanapes who plays the 
lover in the Rodomontades of Captain Matamore ? 
What in the world can he have to say to Madame la 
Marquise ? Doubtless he asks for a gratuity ! ” 

“ I don’t think so,” said the spiteful waiting-maid ; 
“ when he gave me this letter he sighed, and rolled up 
his eyes like a love-sick swain.” 

“ Give me the letter,” said the Marquis, “ / will an- 
swer it — and don’t say anything about it to your mis- 
tress. Such chaps are apt to be impertinent — they are 
spoiled by admiration, and sometimes presume upon it.” 

The marquis, who dearly loved a joke, amused himself 
by answering Leander’s extraordinary epistle with one in 
much the same style — written in a delicate, ladylike hand 
upon perfumed paper, and sealed with a fanciful device 
— altogether a production well calculated to deceive the 
poor devil, and confirm him in his ridiculous fancies. 
Accordingly, when he regained his bed-chamber after the 
play was over, he found upon his dressing-table a note 
addressed to himself. He hastened to open it, trembling 
from head to foot with excitement and delight, and read 
as follows : “ It is true, as you say so eloquently— too 
eloquently for my peace of mind — that goddesses can 
only love mortals. At eleven o’clock, when all the world 
is sunk in slumber, and no prying human eyes open to 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. I IQ 

gaze upon her, Diana will quit her place in the skies 
above and descend to earth, to visit the gentle shepherd, 
Endymion — not upon Mount Latmus, but in the park — 
at the foot of the statue of silent love. The handsome 
shepherd must be sure to have fallen asleep ere Diana 
appears, so as not to shock the modesty of the immor- 
tal goddess — who will come without her cortege of 
nymphs, wrapped in a cloud and devoid of her silvery 
radiance.” 

We will leave to the reader’s imagination the delirious 
joy that filled to overflowing the foolish heart of the sus- 
ceptible Leander, who was fooled to the top of his bent, 
when he read this precious note, which exceeded his 
wildest hopes. He immediately began his preparations 
to play the part of Endymion — poured a' whole bottle of 
perfume upon his hair and hands, chewed a flower of 
mace to make his breath sweet, twisted his glossy curls 
daintily round his white fingers — though not a hair was 
awry — and then waited impatiently for the moment 
when he should set forth to seek the rendezvous at the 
foot of the statue of silent love — where we left him anx- 
iously awaiting the arrival of his goddess. He shivered 
nervously from excitement, and the penetrating chilliness 
of the damp night air, as he stood motionless at the ap- 
pointed spot. He trembled at the falling of a leaf — the 
crackling of the gravel under his feet whenever he moved 
them sounded so loud in his ears that he felt sure it 
would be heard at the chateau. The mysterious dark- 
ness of the wood filled him with awe, and the great, 
black trees seemed like terrible genii, threatening him. 
The poor wretch was not exactly frightened, but not 
very far from it. Madame la Marquise was tardy — 
Diana was leaving her faithful Endymion too long cool- 


120 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


ing his heels in the heavy night dew. At last he thought 
he heard heavy footsteps approaching — but they could 
not be those of his goddess — he must be mistaken — 
goddesses glide so lightly over the sward that not even a 
blade of grass is crushed beneath their feet — and, indeed, 
all was silent again. 

“ Unless Madame la Marquise comes quickly, I fear 
she will find only a half-frozen lover, instead of an 
ardent, impatient one,” murmured Leander with chatter- 
ing teeth ; and even as the words escaped him four dark 
shadows advanced noiselessly from behind upon the ex- 
pectant gallant. Two of these shadows, which were the 
substantial bodies of stout rascals in the service of the 
Marquis de Bruyeres, seized him suddenly by the arms, 
which they held pinioned closely to his sides, while the 
other two proceeded to rain blows alternately upon his 
back — keeping perfect time as their strokes fell thick 
and fast. Too proud to run the risk of making his 
woes public by an outcry, their astonished victim took 
his punishment bravely — without making a sound. Mu- 
tius Scaevola did not bear himself more heroically while 
his right hand lay among the burning coals upon the 
altar in the presence of Porsenna, than did Leander 
under his severe chastisement. When it was finished 
the two men let go of their prisoner, all four saluted 
him gravely, and retired as noiselessly as they had come, 
without a single word being spoken. 

What a terrible fall was this ! that famous one of 
Icarus himself, tumbling down headlong from the near 
neighborhood of the sun, was not a greater. Battered, 
bruised, sore and aching all over, poor Leander, crest- 
fallen and forlorn, limping painfully, and suppressing his 
groans with Spartan resolution, crept slowly back to his 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. 


I2I 


own room ; but so overweening was his self-conceit that 
he never even suspected that a trick had been played 
upon him. He said to himself that without doubt 
Madame la Marquise had been watched and followed 
by her jealous husband, who had overtaken her before 
she reached the rendezvous in the park, carried her back 
to the chateau by main strength, and forced her, with a 
poinard at her throat, to confess all. He pictured her to 
himself on her knees, with streaming eyes, disordered 
dress and dishevelled hair, imploring her stern lord and 
master to be merciful — to have pity upon her and forgive 
her this once — vowing by all she held sacred never to 
be faithless to him again, even in thought. Suffering 
and miserable as he was after his tremendous thrashing, 
he yet pitied and grieved over the poor lady who had 
put herself in such peril for his sake, never dreaming that 
she was in blissful ignorance of the whole affair, and at 
that very moment sleeping peacefully in her luxurious 
bed. As the poor fellow crept cautiously and painfully 
along the corridor leading to his room and to those of 
the other members of the troupe he had the misfortune 
to be detected by Scapin, who, evidently on the watch 
for him, was peeping out of his own half-open door, 
grinning, grimacing, and gesticulating significantly, as he 
noted the other’s limping gait and drooping figure. In 
vain did Leander strive to straighten himself up and 
assume a gay, careless air ; his malicious tormentor was 
not in the least taken in by it. 

The next morning the comedians prepared to resume 
their journey ; no longer, however, in the slow-moving, 
groaning ox-cart, which they were glad, indeed, to ex- 
change for the more roomy, commodious vehicle that the 
tyrant had been able to hire for them — thanks to the 
6 


122 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


marquis’s liberality — in which they could bestow them- 
selves and their belongings comfortably, and to which 
were harnessed four stout draught horses. 

Leander and Zerbine were both rather late in rising, 
and the last to make their appearance — the former with a 
doleful countenance, despite his best efforts to conceal 
his sufferings under a cheerful exterior, the latter beam- 
ing with satisfaction, and with smiles for everybody. She 
was decidedly inclined to be munificent towards her 
companions, and bestow upon them some of the rich 
spoils that had* fallen pleptifully to her share — taking 
quite a new position among them — even the duenna treat- 
ing her with a certain obsequious, wheedling considera- 
tion, which she had been far from ever showing her 
before. Scapin, whose keen observation nothing ever 
escaped, noticed that her box had suddenly doubled in 
weight, by some magic or other, and drew his own con- 
clusions therefrom. Zerbine was a universal favorite, 
and no one begrudged her her good fortune, save Sera- 
fina, who bit her lip till it bled, and murmured indig- 
nantly, “ Shameless creature ! ” but the soubrette pre- 
tended not to hear it, content for the moment with the 
signal humiliation of the arch-coquette. 

At last the new Thespian chariot was ready for a start, 
and our travellers bade adieu to the hospitable chateau, 
where they had been so honorably received and so gener- 
ously treated, and which they all, excepting poor Leander, 
quitted with regret. The tyrant dwelt upon the bounti- 
ful supply of pistoles he had received ; the pedant upon 
the capital wines of which he had drank his fill ; Mata- 
more upon the enthusiastic applause that had been lav- 
ished upon him by that aristocratic audience ; Zerbine 
upon the pieces of rich silk, the golden necklaces and 


AT THE CHATEAU DE BRUYERES. 1 23 


Other like treasures with which her chest was replete — 
no wonder that it was heavy — while de Sigognac and 
Isabelle, thinking only of each other, and happy in being 
together, did not even turn their heads for. one last 
glimpse of the handsome Chateau de Bruyeres. 


CHAPTER VI 


A SNOW-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 

As may be readily supposed, the comedians were well 
satisfied with the kind treatment they had received dur- 
ing their brief sojourn at the Chateau de Bruyeres ; such 
a piece of good fortune did not often fall to their lot, 
and they rejoiced in it exceedingly. The tyrant had dis- 
tributed among them each one’s share of the marquis’s 
liberal remuneration for their services, and it was won- 
derfully pleasant to them to have broad pieces in the 
purses usually so scantily supplied, and not infrequently 
quite empty. Zerbine, who was evidently rejoicing over 
some secret source of satisfaction, accepted good-natur- 
edly all the taunts and jokes of her companions upon 
the irresistible power of her charms. She was triumphant, 
and could afford to be laughed at — indeed, joined heart- 
ily in the general merriment at her own expense — while 
Serafina sulked openly, with “ envy, hatred, and malice ” 
filling her heart. Poor Leander, still smarting from his 
severe beating, sore and aching, unable to find an easy 
position, and suffering agonies from the jolting of the 
chariot, found it hard work to join in the prevailing 
gayety. When he thought no one was looking at him, he 
would furtively rub his poor, bruised shoulders and arms 
with the palm of his hand, which stealthy manaeuvre 
might very readily have passed unobserved by the rest of 
the company, but did not escape the wily valet, who was 

124 


A SNOW-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 1 25 


always on the lookout for a chance to torment Leander ; 
his monstrous self-conceit being intensely exasperating to 
him. A harder jolt than usual having made the unfor- 
tunate gallant groan aloud, Scapin immediately opened 
his attack, feigning to feel the liveliest commiseration for 
him. 

“ My poor Leander, what is the matter with you this 
morning ? You moan and sigh as if you were in great 
agony ! Are you really suffering so acutely ? You seem to 
be all battered and bruised, like the Knight of the Sorrow- 
ful Countenance, after he had capered stark naked, for a 
love penance, amor^ the rocks in the Sierra Morena, in 
humble imitation of his favorite hero, Amadis de Gaul. 
You look as if you had not slept at all last night, and 
had been lying upon hard sticks, rods, or clubs, instead 
of in a soft, downy bed, such as were given to the rest of 
us in the fine chateau yonder. Tell us, I pray you, did 
not Morpheus once visit you all the night through ?” 

“ Morpheus may have remained shut up in his cavern, 
but Cupid is a wanderer by night, who does not need a 
lantern to find the way to those fortunate individuals he 
favors with a visit,” Leander replied, hoping to divert at- 
tention from the tell-tale bruises, that he had fancied were 
successfully concealed. 

“ I am only a humble valet, and have had no experi- 
ence in affairs of gallantry. I never paid court to a fine 
lady in my life ; but still, I do know this much, that the 
mischievous little god, Cupid, according to all the poets, 
aims his arrows at the hearts of those he wishes to wound, 
instead of using his bow upon their backs.” 

“ What in the world do you mean ? ” Leander inter- 
rupted quickly, growing seriously uneasy at the turn the 
conversation was taking. 


26 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


Oh ! nothing ; only that I see, in spite of all your ef- 
forts to hide it with that handkerchief knotted so care- 
fully round your neck, that you have there on the back of 
it a long, black mark, which to-morrow will be indigo, the 
day after green, and then yellow, until it fades away alto- 
gether, like any other bruise— a black mark that looks 
devilishly like the authentic flourish which accompanies 
the signature of a good, stout club on a calf’s skin — or on 
vellum, if that term pleases you better.” 

“ Ah ! my good Scapin, you do not understand such 
matters,” Leander replied, a scarlet flush mounting to the 
very roots of his hair, and at his wits’ ends to know how to 
silence his tormentor ; “ doubtless some dead and gone 
beauty, who loved me passionately during her lifetime, 
has come back and kissed me there while I was sleeping ; 
as is well known, the contact of the lips of the dead 
leave strange, dark marks, like bruises, on human flesh, 
which the recipient of the mysterious caress is astonished 
to find upon awaking.” 

“ Your defunct beauty visited you and bestowed her 
mysterious caress very apropos,” remarked Scapin, in- 
credulously ; “ but I would be willing to take my oath 
that yonder vigorous kiss had been imprinted upon your 
lily-white neck by the stinging contact of a stout club.” 

“ Unmannerly jester and scoffer that you are ! is noth- 
ing sacred to you ? ” broke in Leander, with some show of 
heat. “You push my modesty too far. I endeavored 
delicately to put off upon a dead beauty what I should 
have ascribed to a living one. Ignorant and unsophisti- 
cated though you claim to be, have you never heard of 
'kisses so ardent that such traces of them are left ? — where 
pearly teeth have closed upon the soft flesh, and made 
their mark on the white skin ?” 


♦ 


A SNOIV-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 12 / 

“ Memorem dente notam,” interrupted the pedant, 
charmed to have a chance to quote Horace. 

“ This explanation appears to me very judicious,” Sca- 
pin said ; then, with a low bow to the pedant, “ and is sus- 
tained by unquestionable if incomprehensible authority;^ 
but the mark is so long that this nocturnal beauty of yours, 
dead or alive, must have had in her lovely mouth that 
famous tooth which the three Gorgon sisters owned 
among them, and passed about from one to the other.” 

This sally was followed by a roar of laughter, and 
Leander, beside himself with rage, half rose, to throw 
himself upon Scapin, and chastise him then and there 
for his insufferable impertinence ; but he was so stiff 
and sore from his own beating, and the pain in his back, 
which was striped like a zebra’s, was so excruciating, 
that he sank back into his place with a suppressed 
groan, and concluded to postpone his revenge to some 
more convenient season. Herode and Blazius, who 
were accustomed to settle such little disputes, insisted 
upon their making up their differences, and a sort of 
reconciliation took place — Scapin promising never to 
allude to the subject again, but managing to give poor 
Leander one or two more digs that made him wince 
even as he did so. 

During this absurd altercation the chariot had been 
making steady progress, and soon arrived at an open space 
where another great post-road crossed the one they were 
following, at right angles. A large wooden crucifix, much 
the worse for long exposure to the weather, had been 
erected upon a grassy mound at the intersection of the 
two highways. A group, consisting of two men and three 
mules, stood at its foot, apparently awaiting some one’s 
arrival. As they approached, one of the mules, as if 


28 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


weary of standing still, impatiently shook its head, which 
was gayly decorated with bright, many-colored tufts and 
tassels, and set all the little silver bells about it ringing 
sharply. Although a pair of leather blinkers, decked with 
gay embroidery, effectually prevented its seeing to the 
right or to the left, it evidently was aware of the approach 
of the chariot before the men’s senses had given them^ any 
intimation of it. 

“ The Colonelle shakes her ear-trumpets and shows 
her teeth,” said one of them ; “ they cannot be far off 
now.” 

In effect, after a very few minutes the chariot was seen 
approaching, and presently rolled into the open space. 
Zerbine, who sat in front, glanced composedly at the little 
group of men and mules standing there, without betray- 
ing any surprise at seeing them. 

“ By Jove ! those are fine beasts yonder,” exclaimed 
the tyrant, “ splendid Spanish mules, especially that fore- 
most one ; they can easily do their fifteen or twenty 
leagues a day, I’ll venture, and if we were mounted on 
the like we should soon find ourselves in Paris. But what 
the devil are they doing in this lonely place ? it must be a 
relay, waiting for some rich seignior travelling this way.” 

“No,” said the duenna, “that foremost mule is in- ■ 
tended for a lady — don’t you see the cushions and hous- i 
ings ? ” : 

“ In that case,” he replied, “ there must be an abduc- 
tion in the wind ; those two equerries, in gray liveries, 
certainly have a very mysterious, knowing sort of an j 
air.” 

“Perhaps you are right,” said Zerbine, demurely, with 
a significant little smile and shrug. 

“ Can it be possible that the lady is among us ?” asked 


A SNOW-STORAI AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 1 29 

Scapin ; “ one of the men is coming this way by himself, 
as if he desired to parley before resorting to violence.” 

“ Oh ! there’ll be no need,” said Serafina, casting a 
scornful glance at the soubrette., who returned it with in- 
terest. “ There are bold creatures that go of their own 
accord, without waiting to be carried off.” 

“ And there are others who are fiot carried off, that 
would like to be,” retorted the soubrette., “ but the desire 
is not sufficient ; a few charms are needed too.” 

At this point the equerry who had advanced to meet 
the chariot made a sign to them to stop, and, cap in hand, 
politely asked if Mademoiselle Zerbine was among them. 
The soubrette herself answered this inquiry in the affirm- 
ative, and sprang to the ground as lightly as a bird. 

“ Mademoiselle, I am at your disposal,” said the 
equerry to her, in a respectful and gallant tone. Zerbine 
shook out her skirts, adjusted her wraps, and then, turn- 
ing towards the comedians, delivered this little harangue : 
“ My dear comrades, I pray you pardon me for quitting 
you in this unceremonious manner. There are times 
when Opportunity offers itself suddenly for our accept- 
ance, and we must seize it without delay, or lose it alto- 
gether ; he would be a fool who let it slip through his 
fingers, for once relinquished it returns not again. The 
face of Fortune, which until now has always frowned 
upon me, at last vouchsafes me a smile, and I am de- 
lighted to enjoy its brightness, even though it may prove 
to be only fleeting. In my humble role of soubrette, I 
could not aspire to, or expect to receive, the admiration 
of rich lords and gentlemen — that is for my betters ; 
and now that a happy chance has thrown such an un- 
hoped-for piece of good luck in my way, you will not 
blame me, I am confident, for gladly accepting it. Let 
6 * 


130 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


me take my belongings then — which are packed in the 
chariot with the others — and receive my adieux. I shall 
be sure to rejoin you some day, sooner or later, at Paris, 
for I am a born actress ; the theatre was my first love, 
and I have never long been faithless to it.” 

The two men accordingly, aided by the comedians, 
took Zerbine’s boxes out of the chariot, and adjusted 
them carefully on the pack-mule. The soubrette made a 
sweeping curtsey to her friends in the chariot, and threw 
a kiss to Isabelle from her finger tips, then, aided by one 
of the equerries, sprang to her place behind him, on the 
back of the Colonelle, as lightly and gracefully as if she 
had been taught the art of mounting in an equestrian 
academy, nodded a last farewell, and striking the mule 
sharply with the high heel of her pretty little shoe, set off 
at a round pace. 

“Good bye, and good luck to you, Zerbine,” cried the 
comedians heartily, one and all ; save only Serafina, who 
was more furiously angry with her than ever. 

“ This is an unfortunate thing for us,” said the tyrant 
regretfully, “ a serious loss. I wish with all my heart that 
we could have kept that capital little actress with us ; we 
shall not easily find any one to replace her, even in Paris ; 
she is really incomparable in her own role — but she 
was not in any way bound to stay with us a moment 
longer than she chose. We shall have to substitute a 
duenna, or a chaperon, for the soubrette in our pieces for 
the present ; it will be less pleasing of course, but still 
Madame .Leonarde here is a host in herself, and we shall 
manage to get on very nicely, I dare say.” 

The chariot started on its way again as he spoke, at 
rather a better pace than the lumbering old ox-cart. 
They were travelling through a part of the country now 


A SNOW-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. I3I 

which was a great contrast to the desolate Landes. To the 
Baron de Sigognac, who had never been beyond their des- 
olate expanse before, it was a revelation, and he could not 
sufficiently admire the richness and beauty of this region. 
The productive, red soil was highly cultivated — not an 
inch of ground neglected — comfortable, often handsome, 
stone houses scattered along their route at frequent inter- 
vals, and surrounded by large, luxuriant gardens, spoke of 
a well-to-do population. On each side of the broad, smooth 
road was a row of fine trees, whose falling leaves lay piled 
upon the ground in yellow heaps, or whirled in the wind 
before de Sigognac and Isabelle, as they walked along 
beneath their spreading branches, finding the exercise a 
welcome relief after sitting for a long time in the chariot 
in rather a cramped position. One day as they were 
walking thus side by side, de Sigognac said to his fair com- 
panion, ‘‘ I wish you would tell me, Isabelle, how it has 
happened that you, with all the characteristics of a lady of 
lofty lineage — in the innate modesty and dignity of your 
manners, the refinement and purity of your language, 
the incomparable grace of your carriage, the elevation of 
your sentiments upon all subjects, to say nothing of the 
delicate, aristocratic type of your beauty — should have 
become a member of a wandering band of players like 
this — good, honest people no doubt, but not of the same 
rank or race as yourself.” 

“ Don’t fancy that I am a princess in disguise, or a great 
lady reduced to earn my living in this way,” she re- 
plied, with an adorable smile, “ merely because of some 
good qualities you think you have discovered in me. The 
history of my life is a very simple, uneventful one, but 
since you show such kind interest in me I will gladly relate 
it to you. So far from being brought down to the station 


32 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


I occupy by some grievous catastrophe or romantic 
combination of adverse circumstances, I was born to the 
profession of an actress — the chariot of Thespis was, so 
to say, my birthplace. My mother, who was a very 
beautiful woman and finished actress, played the part of 
tragic princess. She did not confine her role to the theatre, 
but exacted as much deference and respect from those 
around her when off the stage, as she received upon it, 
until she came to consider herself a veritable princess. 
She had all the majesty and grace of one, and was greatly 
admired and courted, but never would suffer any of the 
gallants, who flutter about pretty actresses like moths 
around a candle, to approach her — holding herself entirely 
above them, and keeping her good name unsullied 
through everything. An account of this unusual con- 
duct on the part of a beautiful young actress chanced to 
reach the ears of a certain rich and powerful prince, who 
was very much struck and interested by it, and immedi- 
ately sought an introduction to my mother. As his 
actual rank and position equalled hers of imaginary prin- 
cess, she received his attentions with evident pleasure. 
He was young, handsome, eloquent, and very much in love 
with her — what wonder then that she yielded at last to 
his impassioned entreaties, and gave herself to him, 
though, because of his high station, he could not do as 
his heart dictated, and make her his wife. They were 
very happy in each other’s love, and after I was born my 
young father was devoted to me.” 

“ Ah ! ” interrupted de Sigognac, eagerly, “ that ex- 
plains it all ; princely blood does flow in your veins. I 
knew it — I was sure of it ! ” 

“ Their happiness continued,” resumed Isabelle, “ until 
reasons of state made it necessary for him to tear himself 


A SNOW-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 133 


away from her, to go on a diplomatic mission to one of 
the great capitals of Europe ; and ere his return to 
France an illustrious marriage had been arranged for 
him by his family, with the sanction of royalty, which 
he found it impossible to evade. In these cruel circum- 
stances he endeavored to do everything in his power to 
soften the pain of this rupture to my poor mother — him- 
self almost broken-hearted at being forced to leave her 
— and made every possible arrangement for her comfort 
and well-being ; settling a generous income on her, and 
providing lavishly for my maintenance and education. 
But she would accept nothing from him — she could not 
receive his money without his love — ‘ all or nothing ’ was 
her motto ; and taking me with her she fled from him, 
successfully concealing her place of refuge. She soon 
after joined a band of players travelling through the 
provinces, and resumed her old role ; but her heart was 
broken, and she gradually faded away, dying at last when 
I wa. only about seven years old. Even then I used to 
appear upon the stage in parts suitable to my age. I was 
a precocious little thing in many ways. My mother’s 
death caused me a grief far more acute than most chil- 
dren, even a good deal older than I was then, are capa- 
ble of feeling. How well I remember being punished 
because I refused to act the part of one of Medea’s chil- 
dren, the day after she died. But my grief was not very 
long-lived — I was but a child after all, and the actors 
and actresses of the troupe were so good to me, always 
petting me, and devising all sorts of ways to please and 
divert me — theatrical people are proverbially kind to 
comrades in distress, you know. The pedant, who be- 
longed to our company, and looked just as old and 
wrinkled then as he does now, took the greatest interest 


134 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


in me, constituted himself my master, and taught me 
thoroughly and indefatigably all the secrets of the histri- 
onic art — taking unwearied pains with me. I could not 
have had a better teacher; perhaps you do not know 
that he has a great reputation, even in Paris. You will 
wonder that a man of his fame and attainments should 
be found in a strolling company of players like this, but 
his unfortunate habits of intemperance have been the 
cause of all his troubles. He was professor of elocution 
in one of the celebrated colleges, holding an enviable 
and lucrative position, but lost it because of his inveter- 
ate irregularities. He is his own worst enemy, poor 
Blazius ! In the midst of all the confusion and serious 
disadvantages of a vagabond life, I have always been able 
to hold myself somewhat apart, and remain pure and in- 
nocent. My companions, who have known me from baby- 
hood, look upon me as a sister or daughter, and treat me 
with invariable affection and respect ; and as for the men 
of the outside world who haunt the coulisses, and seem to 
think that an actress is public property, off the stage as 
well as upon it, I have thus far managed to keep them at a 
distance — continuing in real life my role of modest, ingen- 
uous, young girl, without hypocrisy or false pretensions.” 

Thus, as they strolled along together, and could talk 
confidentially without fear of listeners, Isabelle related 
the story of her life to de Sigognac, who was a most at- 
tentive and delighted listener, and ever more and more 
charmed with his fair divinity. 

“ And the name of the prince,” said he, after a short 
pause, “ do you remember it ? ” 

“ I fear that it might be dangerous to my peace to dis- 
close it,” she replied ; “ but it is indelibly engraven upon 
my memory.” 


A SNOW-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 135 


“ Are there any proofs remaining to you of his connec- 
tion with your mother ? ” 

“ I have in my possession a seal-ring bearing his coat 
of arms,” Isabelle answered ; “ it is the only jewel of all 
he had lavished upon her that my mother kept, and that 
entirely on account of the associations connected with it, 
not for its intrinsic value, which is small. If you would 
like to see it I will be very glad to show it to you some 
day.” 

It would be too tedious to follow our travellers step by 
step on their long journey, so we will skip over a few 
days — which passed quietly, without any incidents worth 
recording — and rejoin them as they were drawing near 
to the ancient town of Poitiers. In the meantime their 
receipts had not been large, and hard times had come to 
the wandering comedians. The money received from 
the Marquis de Bruyeres had all been spent, as well as 
the modest sum in de Sigognac’s purse — who had con- 
tributed all that he possessed to the common fund, in 
spite of the protestations of his comrades in distress. 
The chariot was drawn now by a single horse — instead 
of the four with which they had set off so triumphantly 
from the Chateau de Bruyeres — and such a horse ! a mis- 
erable, old, broken-down hack, whose ribs were so promi- 
nent that he looked as if he lived upon barrel-hoops 
instead of oats and hay ; his lack-lustre eyes, drooping 
head, halting gate, and panting breath combined to make 
him a most pitiable object, and he plodded on at a snail’s 
pace, looking as if he might drop down dead on the road 
at any moment. Only the three women were in the 
chariot — the men all walking, so as to relieve their poor, 
jaded beast as much as possible. The weather was bit- 
terly cold, and they wrapped their cloaks about them 


136 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


and strode on in silence, absorbed in their own melan- 
choly thoughts. Poor de Sigognac, well nigh dis- 
couraged, asked himself despondingly whether it would 
not have been better for him to have remained in the 
dilapidated home of his fathers, even at the risk of 
starving to death there in silence and seclusion, than run 
the risk of such hardships in company with these Bohe- 
mians. His thoughts flew back to his good old Pierre, to 
Bayard, Miraut, and Beelzebub, the faithful companions 
of his solitude ; his heart was heavy within him, and at 
the sudden remembrance of his dear old friends and 
followers his throat contracted spasmodically, and he 
almost sobbed aloud ; but he looked back at Isabelle, 
wrapped in her cloak and sitting serenely in the front of 
the chariot, and took fresh courage, feeling glad that 
he could be near her in this dark hour, to do all that 
mortal man, struggling against such odds, could compass 
for her comfort and protection. She responded to his 
appealing glance with a sweet smile, that quickened his 
pulses and sent a thrill of joy through every nerve. She 
did not seem at all disheartened or cast down by the 
greatness of their misery. Her heart was satisfied and 
happy ; why should she be crushed by mere physical 
suffering and discomforts ? She was very brave, although 
apparently so delicate and fragile, and inspired de Sigog- 
nac, who could have fallen down and worshipped her as 
he gazed up into her beautiful eyes, with some of her 
own undaunted courage. 

The great, barren plain they were slowly traversing, 
with a few dreary skeletons of misshapen old trees scat- 
tered here and there, and not a dwelling in sight, was 
not calculated to dissipate the melancholy of the party. 
Save one or two aged peasants trudging listlessly along. 


A SArOW-STORM AATD ITS CONSEQUENCES. 1 37 


bending under the weight of the fagots they carried on 
their backs, they had not seen a human being all day 
long. The spiteful magpies, that seemed to be the only 
inhabitants of this dreary waste, danced about in front 
of them, chattering and almost laughing at them, as if 
rejoicing in and making fun of their miseries. A search- 
ing north wind, that penetrated to the very marrow in 
their bones, was blQVing, and the few white flakes that 
flew before it now and then were the avant-couriers of 
the steady fall of snow that began as nightfall ap- 
proached. 

“ It would appear,” said the pedant, who was walking 
behind the chariot trying to find shelter from the icy 
wind, “ that the celestial housewife up above has been 
plucking her geese, and is shaking the feathers out of her 
apron down upon us. She might a great deal better send us 
the geese themselves. I for one would be glad enough to 
eat them, without being very particular as to whether they 
were done to a turn, and without sauce or seasoning either. 

“ Yes, so would I, even without salt,” added the tyrant, 

for my stomach is empty. I could welcome now an 
omelette such as they gave us this morning, and swallow 
it without winking, though the eggs were so far gone that 
the little chicks were almost ready to peep.” 

By this time de Sigognac also had taken refuge be- 
hind the chariot — Isabelle having been driven from her 
seat in front to a place in the interior by the increasing 
violence of the storm — and Blazius said to him, “ This is 
a trying time, my lord, and I regret very much that you 
should have to share our bad fortune ; but I trust it will 
be only of brief duration, and although we do get on but 
slowly, still every step brings us nearer to Paris.” 

“ I was not brought up in the lap of luxury,” de Sigog- 


138 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


nac answered, ‘‘ and I am not a man to be frightened by 
a few snowflakes and a biting wind ; but it is for these 
poor, suffering women that I am troubled ; they are ex- 
posed to such severe hardships — cold, privations, fatigue 
— and we cannot adequately shelter and protect them, 
do what we will.” 

“ But you must remember that they are accustomed to 
roughing it, my dear baron, and what would be simply 
unendurable to many of their sex, who have never been 
subjected to such tests, they meet bravely, and make 
light of, in a really remarkable manner.” 

The storm grew worse and worse ; the snow, driven 
with great force by the wind, penetrated into the chariot 
where Isabelle, Serafina, and Madame Leonarde had 
taken refuge among the luggage, in spite of all that could 
be done to keep it out, and had soon covered their 
wraps with a coating of white. The poor horse was 
scarcely able to make any headway at all against the 
wind and snow ; his feet slipped at every step, and he 
panted painfully. Herode went to his head, and took 
hold of the bridle with his strong hand to lead him and 
try to help him along, while the pedant, de Sigognac, and 
Scapin put their shoulders to the wheels at every in- 
equality in the road and whenever he paused or stumbled 
badly, and Leander cracked the whip loudly to encourage 
the poor beast ; it would have been downright cruelty to 
strike him. As to Matamore, he had lingered behind, 
and they were expecting every moment to see his tall, 
spare figure emerge from the gloom with rapid strides 
and rejoin them. Finally the storm became so violent 
that it was impossible to face it any longer ; and though 
it was so important that they should reach the next vil- 
lage before the daylight was all gone, they were forced 


A SNOW-STORM ANT ITS CONSEQUENCES. 1 39 

to halt, and turn the chariot with its back to the wind. 
The poor old horse, utterly exhausted by this last effort, 
slipped and fell, and without making any attempt to rise 
lay panting on the ground. Our unhappy travellers found 
themselves in a sad predicament indeed — wet, cold, tired 
and hungry, all in the superlative degree — blinded by the 
driving snow, and lost, without any means of getting on 
save their own powers of locomotion, in the midst of a 
great desert — for the white covering which now lay upon 
everything had obliterated almost all traces of the road ; 
they did not know which way to turn, or what to do. For 
the moment they all took refuge in the chariot, until the 
greatest violence of the tempest should be over, hud- 
dled close together for warmth, and striving not to lose 
heart entirely. Presently the wind quieted down all of a 
sudden, as if it had expended its fury and wanted to rest ; 
but the snow continued to fall industriously, though 
noiselessly, and as far as the eye could reach through the 
gathering darkness the surface of the earth was white, 
as if it had been wrapped in a winding sheet. 

“ What in the world has become of Matamore ? ” cried 
Blazius suddenly ; “ has the wind carried him off to the 
moon I wonder?” 

“Yes; where can he be?” said the tyrant, in an 
anxious tone ; “ I can’t see him anywhere — I thought he 
was among us ; perhaps he is lying asleep among the 
stage properties at the back of the chariot ; I have known 
him curl himself down there for a nap before now. 
Holloa ! Matamore ! where are you ? wake up and an- 
swer us ! ” 

But no Matamore responded, and there was no move- 
ment under the great heap of scenery, and decorations of 
all sorts, stowed away there. 


140 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


“ Holloa ! Matamore ! ” roared H^rode again, in his 
loudest tones, which might have waked the seven sleep- 
ers in their cavern, and roused their dog too. 

“ We have not seen him here in the chariot at all 
to-day,” said one of the actresses ; “we thought he was 
walking with the others.” 

“ The deuce ! ” exclaimed Blazius, “ this is very 
strange. I hope no accident has happened to the poor 
fellow.” 

“ Undoubtedly he has taken shelter in the worst of 
the storm on the lee side of the trunk of a tree some- 
where,” said de Sigognac, “ and will soon come up with 
us.” 

After a short discussion, it was decided to wait where 
they were a few minutes longer, and then if he did not 
make his appearance go in search of him. They anxiously 
watched the way by which they had come, but no human 
form appeared on the great expanse of white, and the 
darkness was falling rapidly upon the earth, as it does 
after the short days of December. The distant howling 
of a dog now came to their ears, to add to the lugubrious 
effect of their surroundings, but they were all so troubled 
at the strange absence of their comrade that their own 
individual miseries were for the moment forgotten. The 
doleful howling, so far away at first, gradually became 
louder, until at last a large, black dog came in sight, and 
sitting down upon the snow, still a long distance from 
them, raised his head so that his muzzle pointed upward 
to the sky and howled, as if in the greatest distress. 

“ I’m afraid something terrible has happened to our 
poor Matamore,” cried the tyrant, and his voice trembled 
a little ; “that dog howls as if for a death.” 

At this speech the two young women turned even 


A SNOW-STORAI AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. I4I 


paler than they had been before, if that were possible, 
and made the sign of the cross devoutly, while Isabelle 
murmured a prayer. 

“We must go in search of him without a moment’s de- 
lay,” said Blazius, “ and take the lantern with us ; it will 
serve as a guiding star to him if he has wandered off from 
the road, as is very probable, with everything covered 
with snow like this.” 

They accordingly lighted their horn lantern, and set off 
with all possible speed — the tyrant, Blazius, and de Si- 
gognac — whilst Scapin and Leander remained with the 
three women in the chariot. The dog, meantime, kept 
up his dismal howling without a moment’s intermission 
as the three men hastened towards him. The darkness 
and the new-fallen snow, which had completely obliter- 
ated all traces of footsteps, made the task of looking for 
the missing actor a very difficult one, and after walk- 
ing nearly a mile without seeing a sign of him, they 
began to fear that their search would prove fruitless. 
They kept calling, “ Matamore ! Matamore ! ” but there 
was no reply, nothing to be heard but the howling of the 
large black dog, at intervals now, or the scream of an 
owl, disturbed by the light of the lantern. At last de 
Sigognac, with his penetrating vision, thought he could 
make out a recumbent figure at the foot of a tree, a little 
way off from the road, and they all pressed forward to 
the spot he indicated. 

If was indeed poor Matamore, sitting on the ground, 
with his back against the tree, and his long legs, stretched 
out in front of him, quite buried under the snow ; he did 
not stir at the approach of his comrades, or answer their 
joyful shout of recognition, and when Blazius, alarmed 
at this strange apathy, hastened forward and threw the 


142 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


light of the lantern upon his face, he had nearly let it fall 
from fright at what it revealed. Poor Matamore was 
dead, stiff and stark, with wide-open, sunken eyes staring 
out vaguely into the darkness, and his ghastly face wear- 
ing that pinched, indescribable expression which the 
mortal puts on when the spirit that dwelt within has fled. 
The three who had found him thus were inexpressibly 
shocked, and stood for a moment speechless and motion- 
less, in the presence of death. The tyrant was the first 
to recover himself, and hoping that some sign of life 
might yet remain he stooped and took the cold hand into 
his, and essayed to find a pulse at the wrist — in vain ! it 
was still and icy. Unwilling yet to admit that the vital 
spark was extinct, he asked Blazius for his gourd, which 
he always carried with him, and endeavored to pour a 
few drops of wine into his mouth — in vain ! the teeth 
were tightly locked together, and the wine trickled from 
between his pale lips, and dropped slowly down upon his 
breast. 

“ Leave him in peace ! do not disturb these poor re- 
mains ! ” said de Sigognac in trembling tones ; “ don’t 
you see that he is dead ? ” 

“Alas ! you are right,” Blazius added, “he is dead ; 
dead as Cheops in the great pyramid. Poor fellow ! he 
must have been confused by the blinding snow, and un- 
able to make his way against that terrible wind, turned 
aside and sat down under this tree, to wait until its vio- 
lence should be spent ; but he had not flesh enough on 
his bones to keep them warm, and must have been quickly 
frozen through and through. He has starved himself 
more than ever lately, in hopes of producing a sensation 
at Paris, and he was thinner than any greyhound before. 
Poor Matamore ! thou art out of the way of all trouble 


A SNOIV-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. I43 

now ; no more blows, and kicks, and curses for thee, my 
friend, whether on or off the stage, and thou wilt be 
laughed at no more forever.” 

“ What shall we do about his body ? ” interrupted the 
more practical tyrant. “ We cannot leave it here for 
dogs, and wolves, and birds of prey to devour — though 
indeed I almost doubt whether they would touch it, there 
is so little flesh upon his bones.” 

“No, certainly, we cannot leave him here,” Blazius 
replied; “he was a good and loyal comrade ; he deserves 
better of us than that ; we will not abandon him, poor 
Matamore ! He is not heavy ; you take his head and I 
will take his feet, and we will carry him to the chariot. 
To-morrow morning we will bury him as decently as we 
can in some quiet, retired spot, where he will not be likely 
to be disturbed. Unfortunately we cannot do better for 
him than that, for we, poor actors, are excluded by our 
hard-hearted and very unjust step-mother, the church, 
from her cemeteries ; she denies us the security and 
comfort of being laid to rest for our last long sleep in 
consecrated ground. After having devoted our lives to 
the amusement of the human race — the highest as well 
as the more lowly among them, and faithful sons and 
daughters of holy church too — we must be thrown into 
the next ditch when the end comes, like dead dogs and 
horses. Now, Herode, are you ready ? and will you, my 
lord, lead the way with the lantern ? ” 

The mournful little procession moved slowly forward ; 
the howling dog was quiet at last, as if his duty was 
done, and a deathlike stillness prevailed around them. 
It was well that there were no passers-by at that hour; it 
would have been a strange sight, almost a frightful one, 
for any such, for they might well have supposed that a 


144 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


hideous crime had been committed ; the two men bearing 
the dead body away at night, lighted by the third with his 
lantern, which threw their shadows, long, black and mis- 
shapen, upon the startling whiteness of the snow, as they 
advanced with measured tread. Those who had re- 
mained with the chariot saw from afar the glimmer of 
de Sigognac’s lantern, and wondered why they walked 
so slowly, not perceiving at that distance their sad bur- 
den. Scapin and Leander hastened forward to meet 
them, and as soon as they got near enough to see them 
distinctly the former shouted to them — “ Well, what is 
the matter ? why are you carrying Matamore like that ? 
is he ill, or has he hurt himself ? ” 

“ He is not ill,” answered Blazius, quietly, as they 
met, “ and nothing can ever hurt him again — he is cured 
forever of the strange malady we call life, which always 
ends in death.” 

“ Is he really dead ? ” Scapin asked, with a sob he did 
not even try to suppress, as he bent to look at the face 
of the poor comic actor, for he had a tender heart 
under his rough exterior, and had cherished a very sin- 
cere affection for poor Matamore. 

“Very dead indeed, for he is frozen as well,” Blazius 
replied, in a voice that belied the levity of his words. 

“ He has lived ! as they always say at the end of a 
tragedy,” said Herode ; “ but relieve us, please, it is 
your turn now ; we have carried the poor fellow a long 
way, and it is well for us that he is no heavier.” 

Scapin took Herode’s place, reverently and tenderly, 
while Leander relieved the pedant — though this office 
was little to his taste — and they resumed their march, 
soon reaching the chariot. In spite of the cold and 
snow, Isabelle and Serafina sprang to the ground to meet 


A SNOIV-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. I45 

them, but the duenna did not leave her seat — with age 
had come apathy, and selfishness had never been want- 
ing. When they saw poor Matamore stiff and motion- 
less, and were told that he was dead, the two young 
women were greatly shocked and moved, and Isabelle, 
bursting into tears, raised her pure eyes to heaven and 
breathed a fervent prayer for the departed soul. 

And now came the question, what was to be done ? 
The village for which they were bound was still a league 
away ; but they could not stay where they were all night, 
and they decided to go on, even if they had to abandon 
the chariot and walk — anything would be better than 
freezing to death like poor Matamore. But after all,things 
were not at a such a desperate pass as they supposed ; the 
long rest, and a good feed of oats that Scapin had been 
thoughtful enough to give their tired horse, had so 
revived the poor old beast that he seemed to be ready 
and willing to go forward again — so their most serious 
difficulty was removed. Matamore’s body was laid in 
the chariot, and carefully covered with a large piece of 
white linen they fortunately happened to have among 
their heterogeneous belongings, the women resumed 
their seats, not without a slight shudder as they thought 
of their ghastly companion, and the men walked — Scapin 
going in front with the lantern, and Herode leading the 
horse. They could not make very rapid progress, but at 
the end of two hours perceived — oh, welcome sight ! — 
the first straggling houses of the village where they were 
to spend the night. At the noise of the approach- 
ing vehicle the dogs began to bark furiously, and 
more than one nightcapped head appeared at the win- 
dows as they passed along through the deserted street — 
so the pedant was able to ask the way to the inn, which 
•7 


46 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


proved to be at the other end of the hamlet — and the 
worn-out old horse had to make one more effort ; but he 
seemed to feel that the stable, where he should find 
shelter, rest and food, was before him, and pushed on 
with astonishing alacrity. 

They found it at last — the inn — with its bunch of holly 
for a sign. It looked a forlorn place, for travellers did 
not usually stop over night in this small, unimportant vil- 
lage ; but the comedians were not in a mood to be fas- ‘ 
tidious, and would have been thankful for even a more 
unpromising house of entertainment than this one. It 
was all shut up for the night, with not a sign of life to be 
seen, so the tyrant applied himself diligently to pound- 
ing on the door with his big fists, until the sound of foot- 
steps within, descending the stairs, showed that he had 
succeeded in rousing somebody. A ray of light shone 
through the cracks in the rickety old door, then it was 
cautiously opened just a little, and an aged, withered 
crone, striving to protect the flame of her flaring candle 
from the wind with one skinny hand, and to hold the rags 
of her most extraordinary undress together with the other, 
peered out at them curiously. She was evidently just 
as she had turned out of her bed, and a more revolting, 
witch-like old hag it would be hard to find ; but she 
bade the belated travellers enter, with a horrible grimace 
that was intended for a smile, throwing the door wide 
open, and telling them they were welcome to her house 
as she led the way into the kitchen. She kindled the 
smouldering embers on the hearth into a blaze, threw on 
some fresh wood, and then withdrew to mount to her 
chamber and make herself a little more presentable — hav- 
ing first roused a stout peasant lad, who served as hostler, 
and sent him to take the chariot into the court, where he 


A SNOW-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 1 47 

was heard directly unharnessing the weary horse and 
leading him into the stable. 

“ We cannot leave poor Matamore’s body in the chariot 
all night, like a dead deer brought home from the chase,” 
said Blazius ; “ the dogs out there in the court might find 
it out. Besides, he had been baptized, and his remains 
ought to be watched with and cared for, like any other 
good Christian’s.” 

So they brought in the sad burden tenderly, laid it on 
the long table, and covered it again carefully with the 
white linen cloth. When the old woman returned, and 
saw this strange and terrible sight, she was frightened 
almost to death, and, throwing herself on her knees, be- 
gan begging volubly for mercy — evidently taking the 
troupe of comedians for a band of assassins, and the dead 
man for their unfortunate victim. It was with the greatest 
difficulty that Isabelle finally succeeded in calming and 
reassuring the poor, distracted, old creature, who was be- 
side herself with terror, and made her listen to the story 
of poor Matamore’s death. When, at last, she fully un- 
derstood the true state of the case, she went and fetched 
more candles, which she lighted and disposed symmet- 
rically about the dead body, and kindly offered to sit 
up and watch it with Madame Leonarde — also to do all 
that was necessary and usual for it — adding that she was 
always sent for in the village when there was a death, 
to perform those last, sad offices. All this being satis- 
factorily arranged — whereat they were greatly relieved — 
the weary travellers were conducted into another room, 
and food was placed before them ; but the sad scenes 
just enacted had taken away their appetites, though it 
was many long hours since they had eaten. And be it 
here recorded that Blazius, for the first time in his life, 


148 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


forgot to drink his wine, though it was excellent, and 
left his glass half full. He could not have given a more 
convincing proof of the depth and sincerity of his grief. 

Isabelle and Serafina spent the night in an adjoining 
chamber, sharing the one small bed it contained, and the 
men lay down upon bundles of straw that the stable-boy 
brought in for them. None of them slept much — being 
haunted by disturbing dreams inspired by the sad and 
trying events of the previous day — and all were up and 
stirring at an early hour, for poor Matamore’s burial was 
to be attended to. For want of something more appro- 
priate the aged hostess and Madame Leonarde had en- 
veloped the body in an old piece of thick canvas — still 
bearing traces of the foliage and garlands of flowers 
originally painted in bright colors upon it — in which they 
had sewed it securely, so that it looked not unlike an 
Egyptian mummy. A board resting on two cross pieces 
of wood served as a bier, and, the body being placed 
upon it, was carried by Herode, Blazius, Scapin and 
Leander. A large, black velvet cloak, adorned with 
spangles, which was used upon the stage by sovereign 
pontiffs or venerable necromancers, did duty as a pall— 
not inappropriately surely. The little cortege left the 
inn by a small door in the rear that opened upon a 
deserted common, so as to avoid passing through the 
street and rousing the curiosity of the villagers, and set 
off toward a retired spot, indicated by the friendly old 
woman, where no one would be likely to witness or in- 
terfere with their proceedings. The early morning was 
gray and cold, the sky leaden — no one had ventured abroad 
yet save a few peasants searching for dead wood and 
sticks, who looked with suspicious eyes -upon the strange 
little procession making its way slowly through the un- 
trodden snow, but did not attempt to approach or molest 


A SNOW-STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. I49 


it. They reached at last the lonely spot where they 
weie to leave the mortal remains of poor Matamore, and 
the stable-boy, who had accompanied them carrying a 
spade , set to work to dig the grave. Several carcasses 
of animals lay scattered about close at hand, partly hid- 
den by rue snow — among them two or three skeletons of 
horses, picked clean by birds of prey ; their long heads, 
at the end ^f the slender vertebral columns, peering out 
horribly at them, and their ribs, like the sticks of an 
open fan stripped of its covering, appearing above the 
smooth white surface, bearing each one its little load 
of snow. The comedians observed these ghastly sur- 
roundings with a shudder, as they laid their burden gently 
down upon the ground, and gathered round the grave 
which the boy was industriously digging. He made but 
slow progress, however, and the tyrant, taking the spade 
from him, went to work with a will, and had soon finished 
the sad task. Just at the last a volley of stones suddenly 
startled the little group, who, intent upon the mournful 
business in hand, had not noticed the stealthy approach 
of a considerable number of peasants. These last had 
been hastily summoned by their friends who had first 
perceived the mysterious little funeral procession, with- 
out priest, crucifix, or lighted tapers, and taken it for 
granted that there must be something uncanny about it. 
They were about to follow up the shower of stones by a 
charge upon the group assembled round the open grave, 
when de Sigognac, outraged at this brutal assault, whip- 
ped out his sword, and rushed upon them impetuously, 
striking some with the flat of the blade, and threatening 
others with the point ; while the tyrant, who had leaped 
out of the grave at the first alarm, seized one of the cross 
pieces of the improvised bier, and followed the baron 
into the thick of the crowd, raining blows right and left 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


150 

among their cowardly assailants ; who, though they far 
outnumbered the little band of comedians, fled before 
the vigorous attack of de Sigognac and Herode, cursing 
and swearing, and shouting out violent threats as they 
withdrew. Poor Matamore’s humble obsequies were 
completed without further hindrance. When the first 
spadeful of earth fell upon his body the pedant, with great 
tears slowly rolling down his cheeks, bent reverently over 
the grave and sighed out, “ Alas ! poor Matamore ! ” little 
thinking that he was using the very words of Hamlet, 
prince of Denmark, when he apostrophized the skull of 
Yorick, an ancient king’s jester, in the famous tragedy 
of one Shakespeare — a poet of great renown in England, 
and protege of Queen Elizabeth. 

The grave was filled up in silence, and the tyrant — after 
having trampled down the snow for some distance around 
it, so that its exact whereabouts might not be easy to 
find in case the angry peasants should come back to dis- 
turb it — said as they turned away, “ Now let us get out 
of this place as fast as we can ; we have nothing more to 
do here, and the sooner we quit it the better. Those 
brutes that attacked us may return with reinforcements 
— indeed I think it more than likely that they will — 
in which case your sword, my dear baron, and my stick 
might not be enough to scatter them again. We don’t 
want to kill any of them, and have the cries of widows 
and orphans Resounding in our ears ; and besides, it 
might be awkward for us if we were obliged to do it in 
self-defence, and then were hauled up before the local 
justice of peace to answer for it.” 

There was so much good sense in this advice that it 
was unanimously agreed to follow it, and in less than an 
hour, after having settled their account at the inn, they 
were once more upon the road. 


CHAPTER VIL 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 

The comedians pushed forward at first as rapidly as 
the strength of their horse — resuscitated by a night’s rest 
in a comfortable stable, and a generous feed of oats — 
would allow ; it being important to put a good distance 
between themselves and the infuriated peasants who had 
been repulsed by de Sigognac and the tyrant. They plod- 
ded on for more than two leagues in profound silence, for 
poor Matamore’s sad fate weighed heavily upon their 
hearts, and each one thought, with a shudder, that the 
day might come when he too would die, and be buried 
secretly and in haste, in some lonely and neglected spot 
by the roadside, wherever they chanced to be, and there 
abandoned by his comrades. At last Blazius, whose 
tongue was scarcely ever at rest, save when he slept, 
could restrain it no longer, and began to expatiate upon 
the mournful theme *of which all were thinking, embel- 
lishing his discourse with many apt quotations, apo- 
thegms and maxims, of which in his role of pedant he 
had an ample store laid up in his memory. The tyrant 
listened in silence, but with such a scowling, preoccupied 
air that Blazius finally observed it, and broke off his elo- 
quent disquisition abruptly to inquire what he was cogi- 
tating so intently. 

“ I am thinking about Milo, the celebrated Crotonian,” 
he replied, “ who killed a bullock with one blow of his 
fist, and devoured it in a single day. I always have ad- 

151 


152 


CAPTAIN FPACA^SE. 


mired that exploit particularly, and I feel as if I could 
do as much myself to-day.” 

“ But as bad luck will have it,” said Scapin, putting in 
his oar, “the bullock is wanting.” 

“ Yes,” rejoined the tyrant, “ I alas ! have only the fist 
and the stomach. Oh ! thrice happy the ostrich, that, 
at a pinch, makes a meal of pebbles, bits of broken 
glass, shoe-buttons, knife-handles, belt-buckles, or any 
such-like delicacies that come in its way, which the poor, 
weak, human stomach cannot digest at all. At this mo- 
ment I feel capable of swallowing whole that great mass 
of scenery and decorations in the chariot yonder. I feel 
as if I had as big a chasm in me as the grave I dug this 
morning for poor Matamore, and as if I never could get 
enough to fill it. The ancients were wise old fellows ; 
they knew what they were about when they instituted the 
feasts that always followed their funerals, with abund- 
ance of meats and all sorts of good things to eat, washed 
down with copious draughts of wine, to the honor of the 
dead and the great good of the living. Ah ! if we only 
had the wherewithal now to follow their illustrious ex- 
ample, and accomplish worthily that philosophical rite, so 
admirably calculated to stay the tears of mourners and 
raise their drooping spirits.” 

“In other words,” said Blazius, “you are hankering 
after something to eat. /Eolvphemus . ogre, Gargantua, 
monster that you are ! you disgust me.’"^^ ' “ 

“And you,” retorted the tyrant, “ I know that you are 
hankering after something to drink. Silenus, hogshead, 
wine-bottle, sponge that you are ! you excite my pity.” 

“ How delightful it would be for us all if you both 
could have your wish,” interposed Scapin, in a concilia- 
tory tone. ‘ ‘ Look, yonder by the roadside is a little 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


153 


grove, capitally situated for a halting-place. We might 
stop there for a little, ransack the chariot to find what- 
ever fragments may yet remain in it of our last stock of 
provisions, and gathering them all up take our break- 
fast, such as it may be, comfortably sheltered from this 
cold north wind on the lee side of the thicket there. 
The short halt will give the poor old horse a chance to 
rest, and we meantime, while we are breakfasting, can 
discuss at our leisure some expedients for supplying our 
immediate needs, and also talk over our future plans and 
prospects — which latter, it seems to me, look devilishly 
dark and discouraging.” 

“Your words are golden, friend Scapin,” the pedant 
said, “ let us by all means gather up the crumbs that are 
left of former plenty, though they will be but few and 
musty, I fear. There are still, however, two or three 
bottles of wine remaining — the last of a goodly store — 
enough for us each to have a glass. What a pity that 
the soil hereabouts is not of that peculiar kind of clay 
upon which certain tribes of American savages are said 
to subsist, when they have been unlucky in their hunting 
and fishing, and have nothing better to eat.” 

They accordingly turned the chariot off from the 
road into the edge of the thicket, unharnessed the horse, 
and left him free to forage for himself ; whereupon he 
began to nibble, with great apparent relish, at the scat- 
tered spears of grass peeping up here and there through 
the snow. A large rug was brought from the chariot 
and spread upon the ground in a sheltered spot, upon 
which the comedians seated themselves, in Turkish 
fashion, in a circle, while Blazius distributed among them 
the sorry rations he had managed to scrape together ; 
laughing and jesting about them in such an amusing 
7 * 


154 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


manner that all were fain to join in his merriment, and \ 
general good humor prevailed. The Baron de Sigog- |j 
nac, who had long, indeed always, been accustomed to 
extreme frugality, in fact almost starvation, and found ^ 
it easier to bear such trials with equanimity than his x 
companions, could not help admiring the wonderful J 
way in which the pedant made the best of a really f 
desperate situation, and found something to laugh at j 
and make merry over where most people would have 3| 
grumbled and groaned, and bewailed their hard lot, in j 
a manner to make themselves, and all their companions i 
in misery, doubly unhappy. But his attention was j 
quickly absorbed in his anxiety about Isabelle, who was j 
deathly pale, and shivering until her teeth chattered, - 
though she did her utmost to conceal her suffering con- \ 
dition, and to laugh with the rest. Her wraps were sadly ) 
insufficient to protect her properly from such extreme cold j 
as they were exposed to then, and de Sigognac, who ^ 
was sitting beside her, insisted upon sharing his cloak ] 
with her — though she protested against his depriving him- j 
self of so much of it — and beneath its friendly shelter ! 
gently drew her slender, shrinking form close ^o him- \ 
self, so as to impart some of his own vital warmth to i 
her. She could feel the quickened beating of his heart ^ 
as he held her respectfully, yet firmly and tenderly, em- | 
braced, and he was soon rewarded for his loving care by i 
seeing the color return to her pale lips, the happy light ] 
to her sweet eyes, and even a faint flush appear on her j 
delicate cheeks. ; 

While they were eating— or rather making believe to i 
eat their make-believe breakfast — a singular noise was I 
heard near by, to which at first they paid no particular 
attention, thinking it was the wind whistling through the ' 


1 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


155 


matted branches of the thicket, if they thought of it at 
all ; but presently it grew louder, and they could not 
imagine what it proceeded from. It was a sort of hiss- 
ing sound, at once shrill and hoarse, quite impossible to 
describe accurately. As it grew louder and louder, 
and seemed to be approaching them, the women mani- 
fested some alarm. 

“ Oh ! ” shrieked Serafina, “ I hope it’s not a snake ; I 
shall die if it is ; I am so terrified by the horrid, crawling 
creatures.” 

“But it can’t possibly be a snake,” said Leander, 
reassuringly ; “ in such cold weather as this the snakes 
are all torpid and lying in their holes underground, 
stitfer than so many sticks.” 

“Leander is right,” added the pedant, “this cannot be 
a snake ; and besides, snakes never make such a sound 
as that at any time. It must proceed from some wild 
creature of the wood that our invasion has disturbed ; 
perhaps we may be lucky enough to capture it and 
find it edible ; that would be a piece of good fortune, 
indeed, quite like a fairy-tale.” 

Meantime Scapin was listening attentively to the 
strange, incomprehensible sound, and watching keenly 
that part of the thicket from which it seemed to come. 
Presently a movement of the underbrush became notice- 
able, and just as he motioned to the company to keep 
perfectly quiet a magnificent big gander emerged from 
the bushes — stretching out his long neck, hissing with all 
his might, and waddling along with a sort of stupid maj- 
esty that was most diverting — closely followed by two 
geese, his good, simple-minded, confiding wives, in hum- 
ble attendance upon their infuriated lord and master. 

“ Don’t stir, any of you,” said Scapin, under his breath. 


156 


CAPTAIN- FRACASSE. 


and I will endeavor to capture this splendid prize — ” 
with which the clever scamp crept softly round behind 
his comp*anions, who were still seated in a circle on the 
rug, so lightly that he made not the slightest sound ; and 
while the gander — who with his two followers had stop- 
ped short at sight of the intruders — was intently examin- 
ing them, with some curiosity mingled with his angry de- 
fiance, and apparently wondering in his stupid way how 
these mysterious figures came to be in that usually 
deserted spot, Scapin succeeded, by making a wide 
detour, in getting behind the three geese unseen, and 
noiselessly advancing upon them, with one rapid, dexter- 
ous movement, threw his large heavy cloak over the cov- 
eted prize. In another instant he had the struggling 
gander, still enveloped in the cloak, in his arms, and, by 
compressing his neck tightly, quickly put an end to his 
resistance — and his existence at the same time ; while his 
two wives, or rather widows, rushed back into the thick 
underbrush to avoid a like fate, making a great cackling 
and ado over the terrible catastrophe that had befallen 
their quondam lord and master. 

‘‘ Bravo, Scapin ! that was a clever trick indeed,” cried 
Herode ; “ it throws those you are so often applauded for 
on the stage quite into the shade — a masterpiece of 
strategy, friend Scapin ! — for, as is well known, geese are 
by nature very vigilant, and never caught off their guard — 
of which history gives us a notable instance, in the 
watchfulness of the sacred geese of the Capitol, whose 
loud cackling in the dead of night at the stealthy ap- 
proach of the Gauls woke the sleeping soldiers to a sense 
of their danger just in time to save Rome. This splendid 
big fellow here saves us — after another fashion it is true, 
but one which is no less providential.” 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


157 


The goose was plucked and prepared for the spit by 
Madame Leonarde, while Blazius, the tyrant, and Lean- 
der busied themselves in gathering together a goodly 
quantity of dead wood and twigs, and laying them ready 
to light in a tolerably dry spot. Scapin, with his large 
clasp-knife, cut a straight, strong stick, stripped off the 
bark for a spit, and found two stout forked branches, 
which he stuck firmly into the ground on each side of 
the fire so that they would meet over it. A handful of 
dry straw from the chariot served as kindling, and they 
quickly had a bright blaze, over which the goose was 
suspended, and being duly turned and tended by 
Scapin, in a surprisingly short space of time began to as- 
sume a beautiful light brown hue, and send out such a 
savory delicious odor that the tyrant sprang up and 
strode away from its immediate vicinity, declaring that if 
he remained near it the temptation to seize and swallow 
it, spit and all, would surely be too strong for him. 
Blazius had fetched from the chariot a huge tin platter 
that usually figured in theatrical feasts, upon which the 
goose, done to a turn, was finally placed with all due 
ceremony, and a second breakfast was partaken of, which 
was by no means a fallacious, chimerical repast like the 
first. The pedant, who was an accomplished carver, 
officiated in that capacity on this auspicious occasion ; 
begging the company, as he did so, to be kind enough 
to excuse the unavoidable absence, which he deeply re- 
gretted, of the slices of Seville oranges that should have 
formed a part of the dish — being an obligatory accessory 
of roast goose — and they with charming courtesy smiling- 
ly expressed their willingness to overlook for this once 
such a culinary solecism. 

Now,” said Herode, when nothing remained of the 


158 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


goose but its well-picked bones, “ we must try to decide 
upon what is best to be done. Only three or four pis- 
toles are left in the exchequer, and my office as treasurer 
bids fair to become a sinecure. We have been so un- 
fortunate as to lose two valuable members of the troupe, 
Zerbine and poor Matamore, rendering many of oui 
best plays impossible for us, and at any rate we cannot 
give dramatic representations that would bring in much 
money here in the fields, where our audience would be 
mainly composed of crows, jackdaws, and magpies — who 
could scarcely be expected to pay us very liberally for 
our entertainment. With that poor, miserable, old horse 
there, slowly dying between the shafts of our chariot, hard- 
ly able to drag one foot after another, we cannot reasona- 
bly expect to reach Poitiers in less than two days — if we 
do then — and our situation is an unpleasantly tragic one, 
for we run the risk of being frozen or starved to death 
by the wayside ; fat geese, already roasted, do not emerge 
from every thicket you know.” 

‘‘You state the case very clearly,” the pedant said as 
he paused, “ and make the evil very apparent, but you 
don’t say a word about the remedy.” 

“ My idea is,” rejoined Herode, “ to stop at the first 
village we come to and give an entertainment. All work 
in the fields is at a standstill now, and the peasants are 
idle in consequence ; they will be only too delighted at 
the prospect of a little amusement'. Somebody will let 
us have his barn for our theatre, and Scapin shall go 
round the town beating the drum, and announcing our 
programme, adding this important clause, that all those 
who cannot pay for their places in money may do so in 
provisions. A fowl, a ham, or a jug of wine, will secure 
a seat in the first row ; a pair of pigeons, a dozen eggs, 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


159 


or a loaf of bread, in the second, and so on down. Peas- 
ants are proverbially stingy with their money, but will be 
liberal enough with their provisions ; and though our 
purse will not be replenished, our larder will, which is 
equally important, since our very lives depend upon it. 
After that we can push on to Poitiers, and I know an 
inn-keeper there who will give us credit until we have 
had time to fill our purse again, and get our finances in 
good order.” 

“ But what piece can we play, in case we find our viM 
lage ? ” asked Scapin. “ Our repe7'toire is sadly reduced/ 
you know. Tragedies, and even the better class of com- 
edies, would be all Greek to the stupid rustics, utterly 
ignorant as they are of history or fable, and scarcely even 
understanding the French language. The only thing to 
give them would be a roaring farce, with plenty of funny 
by-play, resounding blows, kicks and cuffs, ridiculous 
tumbles, and absurdities within their limited comprehen- 
sion. The Rodomontades of Captain Matamore would 
be the very thing ; but that is out of our power now 
that poor Matamore is dead.” 

When Scapin paused, de Sigognac made a sign with 
his hand that he wished to speak, and all the company 
turned respectfully towards him to listen to what he had 
to say. A little flush spread itself over his pale counte- 
nance, and it was only after a brief but sharp struggle 
with himself that he opened his tightly compressed lips, 
and addressed his expectant audience, as follows : “ Al- 
though I do not possess poor Matamore’s talent, I can 
almost rival him in thinness, and I will take his role, and 
do the best I can with it. I am your comrade, and I 
want to do my part in this strait we find ourselves in. I 
should be ashamed to share your prosperity, as I have 


i6o 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


done, and not aid you, so far as lies in my power, in your 
adversity, and this is the only way in which I can assist 
you. There is no one in the whole world to care what 
may become of the de Sigognacs ; my house is crumbling 
into dust over the tombs of my ancestors ; oblivion cov- 
ers my once glorious name, and the arms of my family 
are almost entirely obliterated above the deserted en- 
trance to the Chateau de Sigognac. Perhaps I may yet 
see the three golden storks shine out brilliantly upon my 
shield, and life, prosperity, and happiness return to the 
desolate abode where my sad, hopeless youth was spent. 
But in the meantime, since to you I owe my escape from 
that dreary seclusion, I beg you to accept me freely as 
your comrade, and my poor services as such ; to you I 
am no longer de Sigognac.” 

Isabelle had laid her hand on his arm at his first sen- 
tence, as soon as she comprehended what he meant to 
say, to try to stop him, and here she made another 
effort to interrupt ; but for once he would not heed her, 
and continued, “ I renounce my title of baron for the 
present ; I fold it up and put it away at the bottom of 
my portmanteau, like a garment that is laid aside. Do 
not make use of it again, I pray you ; we will see whether 
under a new name I may not succeed in escaping from 
the ill fortune that has thus far pursued me as the Baron 
de Sigognac. Henceforth then I take poor Matamore’s 
place, and my name is Captain Fracasse.” 

“Bravo ! vive Captain Fracasse !” cried they all, with 
enthusiasm, “ may applause greet and follow him wher- 
ever he goes.” 

This sudden move on de Sigognac’s part, at which the 
comedians were greatly astonished, as well as deeply 
touched, was not so unpremeditated as it seemed ; he had 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


l6l 


been thinking about it for some time. He blushed at the 
idea of being a mere parasite, living upon the bounty of 
these honest players — who shared all they had with him 
so generously, and without ever making him feel, for a 
moment, that he was under any obligation to them, but 
— rather that he was conferring an honor upon them — 
he deemed it less unworthy a gentleman to appear 
upon the stage and do his part towards filling the com- 
mon purse than to be their pensioner in idleness ; and 
after all, there was no disgrace in becoming an actor. 
The idea of quitting them and going back to Sigognac 
had indeed presented itself to his mind, but he had in- 
stantly repulsed it as base and cowardly — it is not in the 
hour of danger and disaster that the true soldier retires 
from the ranks. Besides, if he had wished to go ever so 
much, his love for Isabelle would have kept him neai 
her ; and then, though he was not given to day-dreams, 
he yet fancied that wonderful adventures, sudden 
changes, and strokes of good fortune might possibly be 
awaiting him in the mysterious future, into which he 
fain would peer, and he would inevitably lose the chance 
of them all if he returned to his ruinous chateau. 

Everything being thus satisfactorily arranged, the old 
horse was harnessed up again, and the chariot moved 
slowly forward on its way. Their good meal had revived 
everybody’s drooping spirits, and they all, excepting the 
duenna and Serafina, who never walked if they could 
possibly help it, trudged cheerily along, laughing and 
talking as they went. 

Isabelle had taken de Sigognac’s offered arm, and 
leaned on it proudly, glancing furtively up into his face, 
whenever he was looking away from her, with eyes full of 
tenderness and loving admiration, never suspecting, in 


i 62 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


her modesty, that it was for love of her that he had de- 
cided to turn actor — a thing so revolting, as she knew, to 
his pride as a gentleman. He was a hero in her eyes, 
and though she wished to reproach him for his hasty 
action, which she would have prevented if she could, she 
had not the heart to find fault with him for his noble de- 
votion to the common cause after all. Yet she would 
have done anything, suffered everything herself, to have 
saved him this humiliation ; her’s being one of those true, 
loyal hearts that forget themselves in their love, and 
think only of the interests and happiness of the being 
beloved. She walked on beside him until her strength 
was exhausted, and then returned to her place in the 
chariot, giving him a look so eloquent of love and admi- 
ration, as he carefully drew her wraps about her, that his 
heart bounded with joy, and he felt that no sacrifice could 
be too great which was made for her sweet sake. 

In every direction around them, as far as the eye could 
reach, the snow-covered country was utterly devoid of 
town, village, or hamlet ; not a sign of life was anywhere 
to be seen. 

“ A sorry prospect for our fine plan,” said the pedant, 
after a searching examination of their surroundings, “ and 
I very much fear that the plentiful store of provisions 
Herode promised us will not be forthcoming. I cannot 
see the smoke from a single chimney, strain my eyes as I 
will, nor the weather-cock on any village spire.” 

“ Have a little patience, Blazius ! ” the tyrant replied. 
“ Where people live too much crowded together the air 
becomes vitiated, you know, and it is very salubrious to 
have the villages situated a good distance apart.” 

What a healthy part of the country this must be then ; 
the inhabitants need not to fear epidemics — for to begin 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


163 

with there are no inhabitants. At this rate our Captain 
Fracasse will not have a chance very soon to make his 
debut.” 

By this time it was nearly dark, the sky was overcast 
with heavy leaden clouds, and only a faint lurid glow on 
the horizon in the west showed where the sun had gone 
down. An icy wind, blowing full in their faces, and the 
hard, frozen surface of the snow, made their progress both 
difficult and painful. The poor old horse slipped at 
every step, though Scapin was carefully leading him, and 
staggered along like a drunken man, striking first against 
one shaft and then against the other, growing perceptibly 
weaker at every turn of the wheels behind him. Now 
and again he shook his head slowly up and down, and 
cast appealing glances at those around him, as his trem- 
bling legs seemed about to give way under him. His 
hour had come — the poor, old horse ! and he was dying 
in harness like a brave beast, as he was. At last he 
could no more, and falling heavily to the ground gave 
one feeble kick as he stretched himself out on his side, 
and yielded up the ghost. Frightened by the sudden 
shock, the women shrieked loudly, and the men, running 
to their assistance, helped them to clamber out of the 
chariot. Madame Leonarde and Serafina were none the 
worse for the fright, but Isabelle had fainted quite away, 
and de Sigognac, lifting her light weight easily, carried 
her in his arms to the bank at the side of the road, fol- 
lowed by the duenna, while Scapin bent down over the 
prostrate horse and carefully examined his ears. 

“ He is stone dead,” said he in despairing tones ; “ his 
ears are cold, and there is no pulsation in the auricular 
artery.” 

“ Then I suppose we shall have to harness ourselves 


164 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


to the chariot in his place," broke in Leander dolefully, 
almost weeping. “ Oh ! cursed be the mad folly that led 
me to choose an actor’s career." 

“ Is this a time to groan and bewail yourself ? " roared 
the tyrant savagely, entirely out of patience with Lean- 
der’s everlasting jeremiads ; “ for heaven’s sake pluck up a 
little courage, and be a man ! And now to consider what is 
to be done ; but first let us see how our good little Isa- 
belle is getting on ; is she still unconscious ? No ; she 
opens her eyes, and there is the color coming back to her 
lips ; she will do now, thanks to the baron and Madame 
Leonarde. W e must * divide ourselves into two bands ; 
one will stay with the women and the chariot, the other 
will scour the country in search of aid. We cannot 
think of remaining here all night, for we should be froz- 
en stiff long before morning. Come, Captain Fracasse, 
Leander, and Scapin, you three being the youngest, and 
also the fleetest of foot, off with you ! run like greyhounds, 
and bring us succor as speedily as may be. Blazius and 
I will meanwhile do duty as guardians of the chariot and 
its contents." 

The three men designated signified their readiness to 
obey the tyrant, and set off across country, though not 
feeling at all sanguine as to the results of their search, 
for the night was intensely dark ; but that very darkness 
had its advantages, and came to their aid in an unex- 
pected manner, for though it effectually concealed all 
surrounding objects, it made visible a tiny point of light 
shining at the foot of a little hill some distance from the 
road. 

“ Behold," cried the pedant, “ our guiding star ! as 
welcome to us weary travellers, lost in the desert, as the 
polar star to the distressed mariner ‘ in periculo maris.’ 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


165 


That blessed star yonder, whose rays shine far out 
into the darkness, is a light burning in some warm, com- 
fortable room, which forms — heaven be praised ! — part 
of the habitation of human and civilized beings — not 
Laestrygon savages. Without doubt there is a bright 
fire blazing on the hearth in that cosy room, and over it 
hangs a famous big pot, from which issue puffs of a de- 
licious odor — oh, delightful thought ! — round which my 
imagination holds high revel, and in fancy I wash down 
with generous wine the savory morsels from that glorious 
pot-au-feuP 

“You rave, my good Blazius,” said the tyrant, “the 
frost must have gotten into your brain — that makes men 
mad, they say, or silly. Yet there is some method in 
your madness, some truth in your ravings, for yonder 
light must indicate an inhabited dwelling. This renders 
a change in the plans for our campaign advisable. 
We will all go forward together towards the promised 
refuge, and leave the chariot where it is ; no robbers will 
be abroad on such a night as this to interfere with its 
contents. We will take our few valuables — they are not 
so numerous or weighty but that we can carry them with 
us ; for once it is an advantage that our possessions are 
few. To-morrow morning we will come back to fetch the 
chariot : now, forward, march ! — and it is time, for I am 
nearly frozen to death.” 

The comedians accordingly started across the fields, 
towards the friendly light that promised them so much — 
Isabelle supported by de Sigognac, Serafina by Leander, 
and the duenna dragged along by Scapin ; while Blazius 
and the tyrant formed the advance guard. It was not 
easy work ; sometimes plunging into deep snow, more 
than knee high, as they came upon a ditch, hidden com- 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


1 66 

pletely under the treacherously smooth white surface, or 
stumbling, and even falling more than once, over some 
unseen obstacle ; but at length they came up to what 
seemed to be a large, low building, probably a farm house, 
surrounded by stone walls, with a big gate for carts to 
enter. In the expanse of dark wall before them shone 
the light which had guided their steps, and upon approach- 
ing they found that it proceeded from a small window, 
whose shutters — most fortunately for them, poor, lost 
wanderers — had not yet been closed. The dogs within the 
enclosure, perceiving the approach of strangers, began to 
bark loudly and rush about the yard ; they could hear 
them jumping up at the walls in vain efforts to get at the 
intruders. Presently the sound of a man’s voice and 
footsteps mingled with their barking, and in a moment 
the whole establishment seemed to be on the alert. 

“Stay here, all of you,” said the pedant, halting at a 
little distance from the gate, “ and let me go forward alone 
to knock for admission. Our numbers might alarm the 
good people of the farm, and lead them to fancy us a 
band of robbers, with designs upon their rustic Penates ; 
as I am old, and inoffensive looking, they will not be 
afraid of me.” 

This advice was approved by all, and Blazius, going 
forward by himself, knocked gently at the great gate, 
which was first opened cautiously just a very little, then 
flung impetuously back ; and then the comedians, from 
their outpost in the snow, saw a most extraordinary 
and inexplicable scene enacted before their astonished 
eyes. The pedant and the farmer who had opened the 
gate, after gazing at each other a moment intently, by 
the light of the lantern which the latter held up to see 
what manner of man his nocturnal visitor might be, and 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


167 


after exchanging rapidly a few words, that the others 
could not hear, accompanied by wild gesticulations, 
rushed into each other’s arms, and began pounding each 
other heartily upon the back — mutually bestowing re- 
sounding accolades — as is the manner upon the stage of 
expressing joy at meeting a dear friend. Emboldened by 
this cordial reception, which yet was a mystery to them, 
the rest of the troupe ventured to approach, though slowly 
and timidly. 

“Halloa ! all of you there,” cried the pedant suddenly, 
in a joyful voice, “ come on without fear, you will be 
made welcome by a friend and a brother, a world-famed 
member of our profession, the darling of Thespis, the 
favorite of Thalia, no less a personage than the cele- 
brated Bellombre — you all know his glorious record. 
Blessed is the happy chance that has directed our steps 
hither, to the philosophic retreat where this histrionic 
hero reposes tranquilly upon his laurels.” 

“ Come in, I pray you, ladies and gentlemen,” said 
Bellombre, advancing to meet them, with a graceful 
courtesy which proved that the ci-devant actor had not 
put aside his elegant, courtly manners when he donned 
his peasant dress. “ Come in quickly out of this biting 
wind ; my dwelling is rude and homely, but you will be 
better off within it than here in the open air.” 

They needed no urging, and joyfully accepting his 
kind invitation followed their host into the house, 
charmed with this unhoped-for good fortune. Blazius 
and Bellombre were old acquaintances, and had formerly 
been members of the same troupe ; as their respective 
roles did not clash there was no rivalry between them, 
and they had become fast friends — being fellow wor- 
shippers at the shrine of the merry god of wine. Bel- 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


1 68 

lombre had retired from the stage some years before, 
when at his father’s death he inherited this farm and a 
small fortune. The parts that he excelled in required a 
certain degree of youth, and he was not sorry to with- 
draw before wrinkles and whitening locks should make 
it necessary for him to abandon his favorite roles. In the 
world he was believed to be dead, but his splendid acting 
was often quoted by his former admirers — who were wont 
to declare that there had been nothing to equal it seen on 
the stage since he had made his last bow to the public. 

The room into which he led his guests was very 
spacious, and served both as kitchen and sitting-room — 
there was also a large curtained bed standing in an al- 
cove at the end furthest from the fire, as was not unusual 
in ancient farm-houses. The blaze from the four or five 
immense logs of wood heaped up on the huge andirons 
was roaring up the broad chimney flue, and filling the 
room with a bright, ruddy glow — a most welcome sight 
to the poor half-frozen travellers, who gathered around 
it and luxuriated in its genial warmth. The large 
apartment was plainly and substantially furnished, just 
as any well-to-do farmer’s house might be, but near one 
of the windows stood a round table heaped up with 
books, some of them lying open as if but just put down, 
which showed that the owner of the establishment had 
not lost his taste for literary pursuits, but devoted to 
them his long winter evenings. 

The cordiality of their welcome and the deliciously 
warm atmosphere in which they found themselves had 
combined to raise the spirits of the comedians — color 
returned to pale faces, light to heavy eyes, and smiles to 
anxious lips — their gayety was in proportion to the misery 
and peril from which they had just happily escaped. 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


169 


their hardships were all forgotten, and they gave them- 
selves up entirely to the enjoyment of the hour. Their 
host had called up his servants, who bustled about, set- 
ting the table and making other preparations for supper, 
to the undisguised delight of Blazius, who said triumph- 
antly to the tyrant, “ You see now, Herode, and must 
acknowledge, that my predictions, inspired by the little 
glimmer of light we saw from afar, are completely veri- 
fied — they have all come literally true. Fragrant puffs are 
issuing even now from the mammoth pot-au-feu there 
over the fire, and we shall presently wash down its savory 
contents with draughts of generous wine, which I see 
already awaiting us on the table yonder. It is warm and 
bright and cosy in this room, and we appreciate and enjoy 
it all doubly, after the darkness and the cold and the dan- 
ger from which we have escaped into the grateful shelter 
of this hospitable roof ; and to crown the whole, our host 
is the grand, illustrious, incomparable Bellombre — flower 
and cream of all comedians, past, present and future, 
and best of good fellows.” 

“ Our happiness would be complete if only poor 
Matamore were here,” said Isabelle with a sigh. 

“ Pray what has happened to him ? ” asked Bellombre, 
who knew him by reputation. 

The tyrant told him the tragic story of the snow-storm, 
and its fatal consequences. 

“ But for this thrice-blessed meeting with my old and 
faithful friend here,” Blazius added, “ the same fate 
would probably have overtaken us ere morning — we 
should all have been found, frozen stiff and stark, by the 
next party of travellers on the post road.” 

‘‘That would have been a pity indeed,” Bellombre re- 
joined, and glancing admiringly at Isabelle and Serafina, 
8 


70 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


added gallantly, “but surely these young goddesses 
would have melted the snow, and thawed the ice, with 
the fire I see shining in their sparkling eyes.” 

“ You attribute too much power to our eyes,” Serafina 
made answer ; “they could not even have made any im- 
pression upon a heart, in the thick, impenetrable dark- 
ness that enveloped us ; the tears that the icy cold forced 
from them would have extinguished the flames of the 
most ardent love.” 

While they sat at supper, Blazius told their host of the 
sad condition of their affairs, at which he seemed no way 
surprised. 

“ There are always plenty of ups and downs in a the- 
atrical career,” he said — “ the wheel of Fortune turns very 
fast in that profession ; but if misfortunes come suddenly, 
so also does prosperity follow quickly in their train. 
Don’t be discouraged ! things are brightening with you 
now. To-morrow morning I will send one of my stout 
farm-horses to bring your chariot on here, and we will 
rig up a theatre in my big barn ; there is a large town 
not far from this which will send us plenty of spectators. 
If the entertainment does not fetch as good a sum as I 
think it will, I have a little fund of pistoles lying idle 
here that will be entirely at your service, for, by Apollo ! 
I would not leave my good Blazius and his friends in 
distress so long as I had a copper in my purse.” 

“ I see that you are always the same warm-hearted, 
open-handed Bellombre as of old,” cried the pedant, 
grasping the other’s outstretched hand warmly ; “ you 
have not grown rusty and hard in consequence of your 
bucolic occupations.” 

“ No,” Bellombre replied, with a smile ; “I do not let 
my brain lie fallow while I cultivate my fields. I make 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


171 

a point of reading over frequently the good old authors, 
seated comfortably by the fire with my feet on the 
fender, and I read also such new works as I am able to 
procure, from time to time, here in the depths of the 
country. I often go carefully over my own old parts, 
and I see plainly what a self-satisfied fool I was in the 
old days, when I was applauded to the echo every time I 
appeared upon the stage, simply because I happened to 
be blessed with a sonorous voice, a graceful carriage, and 
a fine leg ; the doting stupidity of the public, with which 
I chanced to be a favorite, was the true cause of my suc- 
cess.” 

“ Only the great Bellombre himself would ever be suf- 
fered to say such things as these of that most illustrious 
ornament of our profession,” said the tyrant, courteously. 

“Art is long, but life is short,” continued the ci-devant 
actor, “ and I should have arrived at a certain degree of 
proficiency at last perhaps, but — I was beginning to grow 
stout ; and I would not allow myself to cling to the stage 
until two footmen should have to come and help me up 
from my rheumatic old knees every time I had a declara- 
tion of love to make, so I gladly seized the opportunity 
afforded me by my little inheritance, and retired in the 
height of my glory.” 

“And you were wise, Bellombre,” said Blazius, “though 
your retreat was premature ; you might have given ten 
years more to the theatre, and then have retired full 
early.” 

In effect he was still a very handsome, vigorous man, 
about whom no signs of age were apparent, save an oc- 
casional thread of silver amid the rich masses of dark 
hair that fell upon his shoulders. 

The younger men, as well as the three actresses, were 


172 


CAPTAIN PPACASSE. 


glad to retire to rest early ; but Blazius and the tyrant, 
with their host, sat up drinking the latter’s capital wine 
until far into the night. At length they, too, succumbed 
to their fatigue ; and while they are sleeping we will re- 
turn to the abandoned chariot to see what was going on 
there. In the gray light of the early morning it could be 
perceived that the poor old horse still lay just as he had 
fallen ; several crows were flitting about, not yet ventur- 
ing to attack the miserable carcass, peering at it suspi- 
ciously from a respectful distance, as if they feared some 
hidden snare. At last one, bolder than its fellows, 
alighted upon the poor beast’s head, and was just bend- 
ing over that coveted dainty, the eye — which was open 
and staring — when a heavy step, coming over the snow, 
startled him. With a croak of disappointment he quitted 
his post of vantage, rose heavily in the air, and flapped 
slowly off to a neighboring tree, followed by his com- 
panions, cawing and scolding hoarsely. The figure of a 
man appeared, coming along the road at a brisk pace, 
and carrying a large bundle in his arms, enveloped in his 
cloak. This he put down upon the ground when he 
came up with the chariot, standing directly in his way, 
and it proved to be a little girl about twelve years old ; a 
child with large, dark, liquid eyes that had a feverish 
light in them— eyes exactly like Chiquita’s. There was 
a string of pearl beads round the slender neck, and an 
extraordinary combination of rags and tatters, held to- 
gether in some mysterious way, hung about the thin, 
fragile little figure. It was indeed Chiquita herself, and 
with her, Agostino — the ingenious rascal, whose laugh- 
able exploit with his scarecrow brigands has been al- 
ready recorded — who, tired of following a profession that 
yielded no profits, had set out on foot for Paris— where 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


73 


all men of talent could find employment they said — 
marching by night, and lying hidden by day, like all 
other beasts of prey. The poor child, overcome with 
fatigue and benumbed by the cold, had given out en- 
tirely that night, in spite of her valiant efforts to keep up 
with Agostino, and he had at last picked her up in his 
arms and carried her for a while' — she was but a light 
burden — hoping to find some sort of shelter soon. 

“ What can be the meaning of this ? ” he said to Chi- 
quita. “ Usually we stop the vehicles, but here we are 
stopped by one in our turn ; we must look out lest it be 
full of travellers, ready to demand our money or our 
lives.” 

“There’s nobody in it,” Chiquita replied, having 
peeped in under the cover. 

“ Perhaps there may be something worth having in- 
side there,” Agostino said ; “we will look and see,” and 
he proceeded to light the little dark lantern he always 
had with him, for the daylight was not yet strong 
enough to penetrate into the dusky interior of the char- 
iot. Chiquita, who was greatly excited by the hope of 
booty, jumped in, and rapidly searched it, carefully di- 
recting the light of the lantern upon the packages and 
confused mass of theatrical articles stowed away in the 
back part of it, but finding nothing of value anywhere. 

“ Search thoroughly, my good little Chiquita ! ” said 
the brigand, as he kept watch outside, “ be sure that 
you don’t overlook anything.” 

“There is nothing here, absolutely nothing that is 
worth the trouble of carrying away. Oh, yes ! here is 
a bag, with something that sounds like money in it.” 

“ Give it to me,” cried Agostino eagerly, snatching 
it from her, and making a rapid examination of its 


74 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


contents ; but he threw it down angrily upon the 
ground, exclaiming, “ the devil take it ! I thought we 
had found a treasure at last, but instead of good 
money there’s nothing but a lot of pieces of gilded 
lead and such-like in it. But we’ll get one thing out 
of this anyhow — a good rest inside here for you, shel- 
tered from the wind and cold. Your poor little feet 
are bleeding, and they must be nearly frozen. Curl 
yourself down there on those cushions, and I will cover 
you with this bit of painted canvas. Now go to sleep, 
and I will watch while you have a nap ; it is too early 
yet for honest folks to be abroad, and we shall not be 
disturbed.” 

In a few minutes poor little Chiquita was sound 
asleep. Agostino sat on the front seat of the chariot, 
with his navaja open and lying beside him, watching 
the road and the fields all about, with the keen, practised 
eye of a man of his lawless profession. All was still. 
No sound or movement anywhere, save among the crows. 
In spite of his iron will and constitution he began to 
feel an insidious drowsiness creeping over him, which he 
did not find it easy to shake off ; several times his eyelids 
closed, and he lifted them resolutely, only to have them 
fall again in another instant. In fact he was just dropping 
into a doze, when he felt, as in a dream, a hot breath on 
his face, and suddenly waked to see' two gleaming eye- 
balls close to his. With a movement more rapid than 
thought itself, he seized the wolf by the throat with his 
left hand, and picking up his navaja with the other, 
plunged it up to the hilt into the animal’s breast. It 
must have gone through the heart, for he dropped down 
dead in the road, without a struggle. 

Although he had gained the victory so easily over his 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


175 


fierce assailant, Agostino concluded that this was not a 
good place for them to tarry in, and called to Chiquita, 
who jumped up instantly, wide awake, and manifested no 
alarm at sight of the dead wolf lying beside the chariot. 

We had better move on,” said he, “ that carcass of the 
horse there draws the wolves ; they are often mad with 
hunger in the winter time you know, and especially when 
there is snow on the ground. I could easily kill a pretty 
good number of them, but they might come down upon 
us by scores, and if I should happen to fall asleep again it 
would not be pleasant to wake up and find myself in the 
stomach of one of those confounded brutes. When I 
was disposed of they would make only a mouthful of you, 
little one ! So come along, we must scamper off as fast 
as ever we can. That fellow there was only the advance 
guard, the others will not be far behind him — this carcass 
will keep them busy for a while, and give us time to get 
the start of them. You can walk now, Chiquita, can’t 
you ? ” 

“Yes, indeed,” she replied, cheerily, “that little nap 
has done me so much good. Poor Agostino ! you shall 
not have to carry me again, like a great clumsy parcel. 
And Agostino,” she added with a fierce energy, “when 
my feet refuse to walk or run in your service you must 
just cut my throat with your big knife there, and throw 
me into the next ditch. I will thank you for it, Agostino, 
for I could not bear to have your precious life in danger 
for the sake of poor, miserable little me.” 

Thereupon this strange pair, both very fleet of foot, 
set off running, side by side, the brigand holding Chiquita 
by the hand, so as to give her all the aid and support he 
could, and they quickly passed out of sight. No sooner 
had they departed than the crows came swooping down 


76 


CAPTAIN FRACAS SE. 


from their perch in the nearest tree, and fell to fiercely 
upon their horrible feast, in which they were almost 
directly joined by several ravenous wolves — and they 
made such good use of their time, that in a few hours 
nothing remained of the poor old horse but his bones, 
his tail, and his shoes. When somewhat later the tyrant 
arrived, accompanied by one of Bellombre’s farm-hands, 
leading the horse that was to take* the chariot back with 
them, he was naturally astonished to find only the skele- 
ton, with the harness and trappings, still intact, about it, 
for neither birds nor beasts had interfered with them, 
and his surprise was increased when he discovered the 
half devoured carcass of the wolf lying under the chariot 
wheels. There also, scattered on the road, were the sham 
louis-a'or that did duty upon the stage when largesses 
were to be distributed ; and upon the snow were the 
traces, clearly defined, of the footsteps of a man, approach- 
ing the chariot from the way it had come, and of those 
of the same man, and also of a child, going on beyond it. 

“ It would appear,” said Herode to himself, “ that the 
chariot of Thespis has received visitors, since we aban- 
doned it, of more than one sort, and for my part I am 
very thankful to have missed them all. Oh, happy ac- 
cident ! that, when it happened, seemed to us so great a 
misfortune, yet is proven now to have been a blessing in 
disguise. And you, my poor old horse, you could not 
have done us a greater service than to die just when 
and where you did. Thanks to you we have escaped 
the wolves — two-legged or^es, which are perhaps the 
most to be dreaded of all, as well as the ravenous breth- 
ren of this worthy lying here. What a dainty feast the 
sweet, tender flesh of those plump little pullets, Isabelle 
and Serafina, would have been for them, to say nothing 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


177 


of the tougher stuff the rest of us are made of. What 
a bountiful meal we should have furnished them — the 
murderous brutes ! ” 

While the tyrant was indulging in this soliloquy 
Bellombre’s servant had detached the chariot from the 
skeleton of the poor old horse, and had harnessed to 
it, with considerable difficulty, the animal he had been 
leading, which was terrified at sight of the bleeding, 
mutilated carcass of the wolf lying on the snow, and 
the ghastly skeleton of its predecessor. Arrived at the 
farm, the chariot was safely stowed away under a shed, 
and upon examination it was found that nothing was 
missing. Indeed, something had been left there, for a 
small clasp-knife was picked up in it, which had fallen 
out of Chiquita’s pocket, and excited a great deal of 
curiosity and conjecture. It was of Spanish make, and 
bore upon its sharp, pointed blade, a sinister inscription 
in that language, to this effect — 

“ When this viper bites you, make sure 
That you must die — for there is no cure.” 

No one could imagine how it had come there, and the 
tyrant was especially anxious to clear up the mystery 
that puzzled them all. Isabelle, who was a little in- 
clined to be superstitious, and attach importance to 
omens, signs of evil, and such-like, felt troubled about 
it. She spoke Spanish perfectly, and understood the 
full force and significance of the strange inscription 
upon the wicked-looking blade of the tiny weapon. 

Meantime, Scapin, dressed in his freshest and most 
gaudy costume, had marched into the neighboring town, 
carrying his drum ; he stationed himself in the large, 
public square, and made such good play with his drum- 
8 * 


78 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


sticks that he soon had a curious crowd around him, to 
whom he made an eloquent address, setting forth in glow- 
ing terms the great attractions offered by “ the illustri- 
ous comedians of Herode’s celebrated troupe,” who, “for 
this night only,” would delight the public by the repre- 
sentation of that screaming farce, the Rodomontades of 
Captain Fracasse ; to be followed by a “bewitching 
Moorish dance,” performed by the “ incomparable Made- 
moiselle Serafina.” After enlarging brilliantly upon this 
theme, he added, that as they were “ more desirous of 
glory than profit,” they would be willing to accept pro- 
visions of all kinds, instead of coin of the realm, in pay- 
ment of places, from those who had not the money to 
spare, and asked them to let all their friends know. This 
closing announcement made a great sensation among his 
attentive listeners, and he marched back to the farm, 
confident that they would have a goodly number of spec- 
tators. There he found the stage already erected in the 
barn, and a rehearsal in progress, which was necessary on 
de Sigognac’s account. Bellombre was instructing him 
in various minor details as the play went on, and for a 
novice he did wonderfully well — acting with much spirit 
and grace, showing decided talent, and remarkable apti- 
tude. But it was very evident that he was greatly an- 
noyed by some portions of the piece, and an angry 
flush mounted to the roots of his hair at the whacks 
and culfs so liberally bestowed upon the doughty cap- 
tain. His comrades spared him as much as possible — 
feeling that it must be intensely repugnant to him — but 
he grew furious in spite of all his efforts to control his 
temper, and at each fresh attack upon him his flashing 
eyes and knitted brows betrayed the fierce rage he was 
in ; then, suddenly remembering that his role required a 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


1 79 


very different expression of countenance, he would pull 
himself up, and endeavor to imitate that which Matamore 
had been wont to assume in this character. Bellombre, 
who was watching him critically, stopped him a moment, 
to say: “You make a great mistake in attempting to 
suppress your natural emotions ; you should take care 
not to do it, for they produce a capital effect, and you 
can create a new type of stage bully ; when you have got- 
ten accustomed to this sort of thing, and no longer feel 
this burning indignation, you must feign it. Strike out 
in a path of your own, and you will be sure to attain 
success — far more so than if you attempt to follow in 
another’s footsteps. Fracasse, as you represent him, 
loves and admires courage, and would fain be able to 
manifest it — he is angry with himself for being such an 
arrant coward. When free from danger, he dreams of 
nothing but heroic exploits and superhuman enterprises ; 
but when any actual peril threatens him, his too vivid 
imagination conjures up such terrible visions of bleeding 
wounds and violent death that his heart fails him. Yet 
his pride revolts at the idea of being beaten ; for a moment 
he is filled with rage, but his courage all disappears with 
the first blows he receives, and he finally shows himself 
to be the poltroon that he himself despises, 'rriis method 
it appears to me is far superior to the absurd grimaces, 
trembling legs, and exaggerated gestures, by which indif- 
ferent actors endeavor to excite the laughter of their 
audience — but meantime lose sight entirely of their art.” 

The baron gratefully accepted the veteran actor’s ad- 
vice, and played his part after the fashion indicated by 
him with so much spirit that all present applauded his 
acting enthusiastically, and prophesied its success. The 
performances were to begin at an early hour, and as the 


8o 


CAP 7' AIN FRACASSE. 


time approached, de Sigognac put on poor Matamore’s 
costume, to which he had fallen heir, and which Madame 
Leonarde had taken in hand and cleverly altered for 
him, so that he could get into it. He had a sharp strug- 
gle with his pride as he donned this absurd dress, and 
made himself ready for his debut as an actor, but reso- 
lutely repressed all rising regrets, and determined faith- 
fully to do his best in the new role he had undertaken. 

A large audience had gathered in the big barn, which 
was brilliantly lighted, and the representation began be- 
fore a full house. At the end furthest from the stage, 
and behind the spectators, were some cattle in their stalls, 
that stared at the unwonted scene with an expression of 
stupid wonder in their great, soft eyes — the eyes that 
Homer, the grand old Greek poet, deemed worthy to 
supply an epithet for the beauteous orbs of majestic Juno 
herself — and in the midst of one of the most exciting 
parts of the play, a calf among them was moved to ex- 
press its emotions by an unearthly groan, which did not 
in the least disconcert the audience, but had nearly been 
too much for the gravity of the actors upon the stage. 

Captain Fracasse won much applause, and indeed 
acted his part admirably, being under no constraint ; for 
he did not need to fear the criticism of this rustic audi- 
ence as he would have done that of a more cultivated 
and experienced one ; and, too, he felt sure that there 
could be nobody among the spectators that knew him, 
or anything about him. The other actors were also 
vigorously clapped by the toil-hardened hands of these 
lowly tillers of the soil — whose applause throughout was 
bestowed, Bellombre declared, judiciously and intelli- 
gently. Serafina executed her Moorish dance with a de- 
gree of agility and voluptuous grace that would have done 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


I8l 


honor to a professional ballet-dancer, or to a Spanish 
Gypsy, and literally brought down the house. 

But while de Sigognac was thus employed, far from 
his ancient chateau, the portraits of his ancestors that 
hung upon its walls were frowning darkly at the de- 
generacy of this last scion of their noble race, and a 
sigh, almost a groan, that issued from their faded lips, 
echoed dismally through the deserted house. In the 
kitchen, Pierre, with Miraut and Beelzebub on either side 
of him — all three looking melancholy and forlorn — sat 
thinking of his absent lord, and said aloud, “ Oh, where 
is my poor, dear master now ? ” a big tear rolling down 
his withered cheek as he stooped to caress his dumb 
companions. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 

The next morning Bellombre drew Blazius aside, and 
untying the strings of a long leathern purse emptied out 
of it into the palm of his hand a hundred pistoles, which 
he piled up neatly on the table by which they were 
standing ; to the great admiration of the pedant, who 
thought to himself that his friend was a lucky fellow to 
be in possession of so large a sum — absolute wealth in 
his eyes. But what was his surprise when Bellombre 
swept them all up and put them into his own hands. 

“ You must have understood,” he said, “ that I did 
not bring out this money in order to torment you in 
like manner with Tantalus, and I want you to take it, 
without any scruples, as freely as it is given — or loaned, 
if you are too proud to accept a gift from an old 
friend. These pieces were made to circulate — they are 
round, you see — and by this time they must be tired of 
lying tied up in my old purse there. I have no use for 
them ; there’s nothing to spend them on here ; the farm 
produces everything that is needed in my household, so 
I shall not miss them, and it is much better in every 
way that they should be in your hands.” 

Not finding any adequate reply to make to this aston- 
ishing speech, Blazius put the money into his pocket, 
and, after first administering to his friend a cordial ac- 
colade, grasped and wrung his hand with grateful fer- 

182 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 1 83 


vor, while an inconvenient tear, that he had tried in 
in vain to wink away, ran down his jolly red nose. As 
Bellombre had said the night before, affairs were bright- 
ening with the troupe ; good fortune had come at last, 
and the hard times they had met and struggled against 
so bravely and uncomplainingly were among the things 
of the past. The receipts of the previous evening — for 
there had been some money taken in, as well as plentiful 
stores of edibles — added to Bellombre’s pistoles, made a 
good round sum, and the chariot of Thespis, so deplora- 
bly bare of late, was now amply provisioned. Not to do 
things by halves, their generous host lent to the come- 
dians two stout farm horses, with a man to drive them 
into Poitiers, and bring them back home again. They 
had on their gala-day harness, and from their gaudi- 
ly-painted, high-peaked collars hung strings of tiny 
bells, that jingled cheerily at every firm, regular step of 
the great, gentle creatures. So bur travellers set out in 
high feather, and their entry into Poitiers, though not so 
magnificent as Alexander’s . into Babylon, was still in 
very fine style indeed. As they threaded their way 
through the narrow, tortuous streets of that ancient 
town, the noise of their horses’ iron shoes ringing out 
against the rough stone pavement, and the clatter of 
their wheels drew many inmates of the houses they 
passed to the windows, and a little crowd collected 
around them as they stood waiting for admission before 
the great entrance door of the Armes de France; the 
driver, meanwhile, cracking his whip till it sounded like 
a volley of musketry, to which the horses responded by 
shaking their heads, and making all the little bells about 
them jingle sharply and merrily. There was a wonderful 
difference between this and their arrival at the last inn 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


184 

they had stopped at — the night of the snow-storm — and 
the landlord, hearing such welcome sounds without, ran 
himself to admit his guests, and opened the two leaves 
of the great door, so that the chariot could pass into 
the interior court. This hotel was the finest in Poitiers, 
where all the rich and noble travellers were in the habit 
of alighting, and there was an air of gayety and pros- 
perity about it very pleasing to our comedians, in con- 
trast with all the comfortless, miserable lodgings they 
had been obliged to put up with for a long time past. 
The landlord, whose double, or rather triple chin testi- 
fied to bountiful fare, and the ruddy tints of his face 
to the excellence of his wines, seemed to be the incar- 
nation of good humor. He was so plump, so fresh, so 
rosy and so smiling, that it was a pleasure only to look 
at him. When he saw the tyrant, he fairly bubbled 
over with delight. A troupe of comedians always at- 
tracted people to his house, and brought him in a great 
deal of money ; for the young men of leisure of the 
town sought their company, and were constantly drink- 
ing wine with the actors, and giving dainty little suppers, 
and treats of various kinds, to the actresses. 

“ You are heartily welcome. Seigneur Herode ! What 
happy chance brings you this way ? ” said the landlord, 
smilingly. “ It is a long time since we have had the 
pleasure of seeing you at the Armes de France." 

“ So it is, Maitre Bilot,” the tyrant answered ; “but we 
cannot be giving our poor little performances always in 
the same place, you see ; the spectators would become 
so familiar with all our tricks that they could do them 
themselves, so we are forced to absent ourselves for a 
while. And how are things going on here, now ? Have 
you many of the nobility and gentry in town at present ? ” 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 


IBS 


“ A great many, Seignior Herode, for the hunting is 
over, so they have come in from the chateaux. But they 
don’t know what to do with themselves, for it is so dull 
and quiet here. People can’t be eating and drinking all 
the time, and they are dying for want of a little amuse- 
ment. You will have full houses.” 

“ Well,” rejoined the tyrant, ^‘then please give us seven 
or eight good rooms, have three or four fat capons put 
down to roast, bring up, from that famous cellar of yours, 
a dozen of the capital wine I used to drink here — you 
know which I mean — and spread abroad the news of the 
arrival of Herode’s celebrated troupe at the Armes de 
France^ with a new and extensive repertoire, to give a 
few representations in Poitiers.” 

While this conversation was going on the rest of the 
comedians had alighted, and were already being con- 
ducted to their respective rooms by several servants. The 
one given to Isabelle was a little apart from the others — 
those in their immediate vicinity being occupied — which 
was not displeasing to the modest young girl, who was 
often greatly annoyed and embarrassed by the promiscu- 
ous, free-and-easy way of getting on, inseparable from 
such a Bohemian life. She always accepted the inevita- 
ble with a good grace, and never complained of the vex- 
ation she felt at being obliged to share her bed-chamber 
with Serafina or the duenna, or perhaps both ; but it was 
a luxury she had scarcely dared to hope for to have her 
room entirely to herself, and moreover sufficiently distant 
from her companions to insure her a good deal of privacy. 

In a marvellously short space of time the whole town 
had become acquainted with the news of the arrival of 
the comedians, and the young men of wealth and fashion 
began flocking to the hotel, to drink a bottle of Mattre 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


1 86 

Bilot’s wine, and question him about the beauty and 
charms of the actresses ; curling up the points of their 
moustaches as they did so with such an absurdly con- 
ceited, insolent air of imaginary triumph, that the worthy 
landlord could not help laughing in his sleeve at them as 
he gave his discreet, mysterious answers, accompanied by 
significant gestures calculated to turn the silly heads of 
these dandified young calves, and make them wild with 
curiosity and impatience. 

Isabelle, when left alone, had first unpacked a portion 
of her clothing, and arranged it neatly on the shelves of 
the wardrobe in her room, and then proceeded to indulge 
in the luxury of a bath and complete change of linen. 
She took down her long, fine, silky hair, combed it care- 
fully, and arranged it tastefully, with a pale blue ribbon 
entwined artistically in it ; which delicate tint was very 
becoming to her, with her fair, diaphanous complexion, 
and lovely flush, like a rose-leaf, on her cheek. When 
she had put on the silvery gray dress, with its pretty blue 
trimmings, which completed her simple toilet, she smiled 
at her own charming reflection in the glass, and thought 
of a pair of dark, speaking eyes that she knew would 
find her fair, and pleasant to look upon. As she turned 
away from the mirror a sunbeam streamed in through her 
window, and she could not resist the temptation to open 
the casement and put her pretty head out, to see what 
view there might be from it. She looked down into a 
narrow, deserted alley, with the wall of the hotel on one 
side and that of the garden opposite on the other, so high 
that it reached above the tops of the trees within. From 
her window she could look down into this garden, and 
see, quite at the other end of it, the large mansion it be- 
longed to, whose lofty, blackened walls testified to its an- 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 1 87 

tiquity. Two gentlemen were walking slowly, arm in 
arm, along one of the broad paths leading towards the 
house, engrossed in conversation ; both were young and 
handsome, but they were scarcely of equal rank, judging 
by the marked deference paid by one, the elder, to the 
other. We will call this friendly pair Orestes and Pylades 
for the present, until we ascertain their real names. The 
former was about one or two and twenty, and remarkably 
handsome and distingue — strikingly so — with a very white 
skin, intensely black hair and eyes, a tall, slender, lithe 
figure, shown to advantage by the rich costume of tan- 
colored velvet he wore ; and well formed feet, with high, 
arched insteps, small and delicate enough for a woman’s 
— that more than one woman had envied him — encased 
in dainty, perfectly fitting boots, made of white Russia 
leather. From the careless ease of his manners, and 
the haughty grace of his carriage, one would readily di- 
vine that he was a great noble ; one of the favored few 
of the earth, who are sure of being well received every- 
where, and courted and flattered by everybody. Pylades, 
though a good-looking fellow enough, with auburn hair 
and moustache, was not nearly so handsome or striking, 
either in face or figure, as his companion. They were 
talking of women ; Orestes declaring himself a woman- 
hater from that time forward, because of what he was 
pleased to call the persecutions of his latest mistress, of 
whom he was thoroughly tired — no new thing with him — 
but who would not submit to be thrown aside, like a 
cast-off glove, without making a struggle to regain the 
favor of her ci-devant admirer. He was anathematizing 
the vanity, treachery, and deceitfulness of all women, 
without exception, from the duchess down to the dairy- 
maid, and declaring that he should renounce their so- 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


1 88 

ciety altogether for the future, when they reached the 
end of the walk, at the house, and turned about to 
pace its length again. As they did so he chanced to 
glance upwards, and perceived Isabelle at her window. 
He nudged his companion, to direct his attention to 
her, as he said, “ Just look up at that window ! Do 
you see the delicious, adorable creature there ? She 
seems a goddess, rather than a mere mortal woman — 
Aurora, looking forth from her chamber in the East — 
with her golden brown hair, her heavenly countenance, 
and her sweet, soft eyes. Only observe the exquisite grace 
of her attitude — leaning slightly forward on one elbow, so 
as to bring into fine relief the shapely curves of her beau- 
tiful form. I would be willing to swear that her’s is a 
lovely character — different from the rest of her sex. She 
is one by herself — a peerless creature — a very pearl of 
womanhood — a being fit for Paradise. Her face tells 
me that she is modest, pure, amiable, and refined. Her 
manners must be charming, her conversation fresh, 
sparkling, and elevating. 

“ The deuce ! ” exclaimed Pylades, laughingly, “ what 
good eyes you must have to make out all that at such 
a distance ! Now I see merely a woman at a window, 
who is rather pretty, to tell the honest truth, but not 
likely to possess half the perfections you so lavishly 
bestow upon her. Take care, or you will be in love 
with her directly.” 

“ Oh ! I’m that now, over head and ears. I must find 
out forthwith who she is, and what ; but one thing is cer- 
tain, mine she must be, though it cost me the half, nay, 
the whole of my fortune to win her, and there be a hun- 
dred rivals to overcome and slay ere I can carry her 
off from them in triumph.” 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 1 89 

“Come, come, don’t get so excited,” said Pylades, 
“you will throw yourself into a fever ; but what has be- 
come of the contempt and hatred for the fair sex you 
were declaring so vehemently just now ? The first pretty 
face has routed it all.” 

“ But when I talked like that I did not know that this 
lovely angel existed upon earth, and what I said was an 
odious, outrageous blasphemy — a monstrous, abominable 
heresy — for which I pray that Venus, fair goddess of love 
and beauty, will graciously forgive me.” 

“ Oh, yes ! she’ll forgive you fast enough, never fear, 
for she is always very indulgent to such hot-headed lovers 
as you are.” 

“I am going to open the campaign,” said Orestes, 
“and declare war courteously on my beautiful enemy.” 

With these words he stopped short, fixed his bold eyes 
on Isabelle’s face, took off his hat, in a gallant and re- 
spectful way, so that its long plume swept the ground, 
and wafted a kiss on the tips of his fingers towards the 
new object of his ardent admiration. The young actress, 
who saw this demonstration with much annoyance, as- 
sumed a cold, composed manner, as if to show this in- 
solent fellow that he had made a mistake, drew back from 
the window, closed it, and let fall the curtain ; all done 
calmly and deliberately, and with the frigid dignity with 
which she was wont to rebuke such overtures. 

“There,” exclaimed Pylades, “your Aurora is hidden 
behind a cloud ; not very promising, that, for the rest of 
the day.” 

“ I don’t agree with you ; I regard it, on the contrary, 
as a favorable augury that my little beauty has retired. 
Don’t you know that when the soldier hides himself be- 
hind the battlements of the tower, it signifies that the 


190 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


besieger’s arrow has hit him ? I tell you she has mine 
now, sticking in under her left wing ; that kiss will force 
her to think of me all night, if only to be vexed with me, 
and tax me with effrontery — a fault which is never dis- 
pleasing to ladies, I find, though they do sometimes make 
a great outcry about it, for the sake of appearances. 
There is something between me and the fair unknown 
now ; a very slight, almost imperceptible thread it may 
seem at present, but I will so manage as to make 
from it a rope, by which I shall climb up into her win- 
dow.” 

“ I must admit,” rejoined Pylades respectfully, “ that 
you certainly are wonderfully well versed in all the stra- 
tagems and ruses of love-making.” 

“ I rather pique myself upon my accomplishments in 
that line, I will confess,” Orestes said, laughingly ; “ but 
come, let’s go in now ; the little beauty was startled, and 
will not show herself at the window again just yet. This 
evening I shall begin operations in earnest.” And the 
two friends turned about and strolled slowly back towards 
the house, which they presently entered, and disappeared 
from sight. 

There was a large tennis-court not far from the hotel, 
which was wonderfully well suited to make a theatre of ; 
so our comedians hired it, took immediate possession, set 
carpenters and painters to work, furbished up their own 
rather dilapidated scenery and decorations, and soon had 
a charming little theatre, in which all the numbered seats 
and boxes were eagerly snapped up, directly they were 
offered to “the nobility and gentry of Poitiers,” who 
secured them for all the representations to be given by 
the troupe, so that success was insured. The dress- 
ing-room of the tennis players had to serve as green- 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. igi 

% 

room, and dressing-room as well for the comedians, large 
folding screens being disposed round the toilet tables of 
the actresses, so as to shut them off as much as possible 
from the gentlemen visitors always lounging there. Not 
a very agreeable arrangement for the former, but the best 
that could be done, and highly approved by the latter, 
of course. 

“What a pity it is,” said the tyrant to Blazius, as they 
were arranging what pieces they should play, seated at a 
window looking into the interior court of the Armes de 
France^ “ what a great pity it is that Zerbine is not with 
us here. She is almost worth her weight in gold, that 
little minx ; a real treasure, so full of fun and deviltry 
that nobody can resist her acting ; she would make any 
piece go off well — a pearl of soubrettes is Zerbine.” 

“Yes, she is a rare one,” Blazius replied, with a deep 
sigh, “ and I regret more and more every day our having 
lost her. The devil fly away with that naughty marquis, 
who must needs go and rob us of our paragon of wait- 
ing-maids.” 

Just at this point they were interrupted by the noise 
of an arrival, and leaning out of the window saw three 
fine mules, richly caparisoned in the gay Spanish fashion, 
entering the court, with a great jingling of bells and clat- 
tering of hoofs. On the first one was mounted a lackey 
in gray livery, and well armed, who led by a long strap a 
second mule heavily laden with baggage, and on the 
third was a young woman, wrapped in a large cloak trim- 
med with fur, and with her hat, a gray felt with a scarlet 
feather, drawn down over her eyes, so as to conceal her 
face from the two interested spectators at the window 
above. 

“ I say, Herode,” exclaimed the pedant, “ doesn’t all 


192 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


this remind you of something ? It seems to me this is 
not the first time we have heard the jingling of those 
bells, eh ? ” 

“ By Saint Alipantin ! ” cried the tyrant, joyfully, 
“ these are the very mules that carried Zerbine off so 
mysteriously. Speak of a wolf ” — 

“ And you will hear the rustling of his wings,” inter- 
rupted Blazius, with a peal of laughter. “ Oh ! thrice 
happy day ! — day to be marked with white ! — for this is 
really Mademoiselle Zerbine in person. Look, she 
jumps down from her mule with that bewitching little 
air peculiar to herself, and throws her cloak to that 
obsequious lackey with a nonchalance worthy of a prin- 
cess ; there, she has taken off her hat, and shakes out 
her raven tresses as a bird does its feathers ; it delights 
my old eyes to see her again. Come, let’s go down and 
welcome her.” 

So Blazius and his companions hastened down to the 
court, and met Zerbine just as she turned to enter the 
house. The impetuous girl rushed at the pedant, threw 
her arms around his neck, and kissed him heartily, cry- 
ing, “ I must kiss your dear, jolly, ugly old face, just the 
same as though it were young and handsome, for I am 
so glad, so very glad to see it again. Now don’t you 
be jealous, Herode, and scowl as if you were just going 
to order the slaughter of the innocents ; wait a minute ! 
I’m going to kiss you, too ; I only began with my dear 
old Blazius here because he’s the ugliest.” 

And Zerbine loyally fulfilled her promise. Then giv- 
ing a hand to each of her companions, went up-stairs 
between them to the room Maitre Bilot had ordered to 
be made ready for her. The moment she entered it she 
threw herself down into an arm-chair standing near the 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 


193 


door, and began to draw long deep breaths, like a person 
who has just gotten rid of a heavy load. 

“You cannot imagine,” she said after a little, “how 
glad I am to get back to you again, though you needn’t 
go and imagine that I am in love with your old phizes 
because of that ; I’m not in love with anybody, heaven 
be praised ! I’m so joyful because I’ve gotten back into 
my own element once more. Everything is badly off 
out of its own element, you know. The water will not 
do for birds, nor the air for fishes. I am an actress by 
nature, and the atmosphere of the theatre is my native 
air ; in it alone do I breathe freely ; even its unpleasant 
odors are sweet to my nostrils. Real, every-day life 
seems very dull and flat. I must have imaginary love 
affairs to manage for other people, and take part in the 
whirl of romantic adventures to be found only on the 
stage, to keep me alive and happy. So I’ve come back 
to claim my old place again. I hope you haven’t found 
any one else to fill it ; though of course I know that you 
couldn’t get anybody to really replace me. If you had 
I should scratch her eyes out, that I promise you, for I 
am a real little devil when my rights are encroached 
upon, though you might not think it.” 

“ There’s no need for you to show your prowess in that 
way,” said the tyrant, “ for we have not had any one 
to take your role, and we’re delighted, overjoyed, to have 
you back again. If you had had some of the magic com- 
pound Apuleius tells us of, and had thereby changed 
yourself into a bird, to come and listen to what Blazius 
and I were saying a little while ago, you would have 
heard nothing but good of yourself — a rare thing that 
for listeners — and you would have heard some very en- 
thusiastic praise besides.” 

9 


194 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE, 


“ That’s charming ! ” the souhrette exclaimed, “ I see 
that you two are just the same good old souls as ever, 
and that you have missed your little Zerbine.” 

Several servants now came in, carrying trunks, boxes, 
portmanteaus, packages, no end of baggage, which Zer- 
bine counted over and found correct ; and when they had 
gone she opened two or three of the larger chests with 
the keys she had on a small silver ring. They were filled 
with all sorts of handsome things — silks and velvets, laces 
and jewels — and among the rest a long purse, crammed 
as full as it could hold of gold pieces, which Zerbine 
poured out in a heap on the table ; seeming to take* a 
childish delight in looking at and playing with her golden 
treasure, while laughing and chattering merrily all the time. 

“ Serafina w'ould burst with rage and envy if she 
should see all this money,” said she gayly, “ so we will 
keep it out of her sight. I only show it to you to prove 
that I didn’t need to return to my profession, but was 
actuated by a pure love of my art. As to you, my good 
old friends, if your finances happen to be not just as you 
could wish, put your paws into this and help yourselves ; 
take just as much as ever they will hold.” 

The two actors thanked her heartily for her generous 
olfer, but assured her that they were very well off, 
and in need of no assistance. 

“ Ah well ! ” said Zerbine, “it will be for another time 
then. I shall put it away in my strong box, and keep it 
for you, like a faithful treasurer.” 

“ But surely you haven’t abandoned the poor mar- 
quis,” said Blazius, rather reproachfully. “ Of course I 
know there was no question of his giving you up ; you 
are not one of that sort. The role of Ariadne would not 
suit you at all ; you are a Circe. Yet he is a splendid 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. IQS 

young nobleman — handsome, wealthy, amiable, and not 
wanting in wit.” 

“ Oh ! I haven’t given him up ; very far from it,” 
Zerbine replied, with a saucy smile. “ I shall guard him 
carefully, as the most precious gem in my casket. 
Though I have quitted him for the moment, he will 
shortly follow me.” 

“Fugax sequax, sequax fugax,” the pedant rejoined ; 
“ these four Latin words, which have a cabalistic sound, 
not unlike the croaking of certain batrachians, and might 
have been borrowed, one would say, from the ‘ Comedy 
of the Frogs,’ by one Aristophanes, an Athenian poet, con- 
tain the very pith and marrow of all theories of love and 
love-making ; they would make a capital rule to regulate 
everybody’s conduct — of the virile as well as of the fair 
sex.” 

“ And what under the sun do your fine Latin words 
mean, you pompous old pedant ? ” asked Zerbine. “ You 
have neglected to translate them, entirely forgetting that 
not everybody has been professor in a college, and knight 
of the ferule, like yourself.” 

“ Their meaning,” he replied, ‘‘ may be expressed in 
this little couplet : 

If you fly from men, they’ll be sure to pursue, 

But if you follow them, they will fly from you.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! ” laughed Zerbine, “ that’s a verse that 
ought to be set to music.” And she began singing it to 
a merry tune at the top of her voice ; a voice so clear 
and ringing that it was a pleasure to hear it. She ac- 
companied her song with such an amusing and effective 
pantomime, representing flight and pursuit, that it was a 
pity she had not had a larger audience to enjoy it. After 


196 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE, 


this outburst of merriment she quieted down a little, and 
gave her companions a brief history of her adventures 
since she had parted from them, declaring that the 
marquis had invariably treated her with the courtesy and 
generosity of a prince. But in spite of it all she had 
longed for her old wandering life with the troupe, the 
excitement of acting, and the rounds of applause she 
never failed to win ; and at last she confessed to the 
marquis that she was pining for her role of soubrette. 
“ Very well, he said to me, you can take your mules and 
your belongings and go in pursuit of the troupe, and I 
will shortly follow in pursuit of you. I have some mat- 
ters to look after in Paris, that have been neglected of 
late, and I have been too long absent from the court. 
You will permit me to applaud you I suppose, and truth 
to tell I shall be very glad to enjoy your bewitching act- 
ing again. So I told him I would look for him among 
the audience every evening till he made his appearance, 
and, after the most tender leave-taking, I jumped on my 
mule and caught you up here at the Armes de France^ as 
you know.” 

“ But,” said Herode, “ suppose your marquis should 
not turn up at all ! you would be regularly sold.” 

This idea struck Zerbine as being so utterly absurd 
that she threw herself back and laughed until she had 
to hold her sides, and was fairly breathless. “ The mar- 
quis not come ! ” she cried, when she could speak, “ you 
had better engage rooms for him right away — not come ! 
why my fear was that he would overtake me on the road ; 
you will see him very soon, I can guarantee. Ah ! you 
abominable old bear ! you doubt the power of my charms, 
do you ? You’re decidedly growing stupid, Herode, as you 
grow old ; you used to be rather clever than otherwise.” 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 


197 


At this moment appeared Leander and Scapin, who had 
heard of Zerbine’s arrival from the servants, and came to 
pay their respects, soon followed by old Madame Leon- 
arde, who greeted the soubrette with as much obsequious- 
ness as if she had been a princess. Isabelle came also to 
welcome her, to the great delight of Zerbine, who was 
devotedly fond of her, and always trying to do something 
to please her. She now insisted upon presenting her with 
a piece of rich silk, which Isabelle accepted very reluct- 
antly, and only when she found that the warm-hearted 
soubrette would be really wounded if she refused her first 
gift. Serafina had shut herself up in her own room, and 
was the only one that failed to come and bid Zerbine 
welcome. She could neither forget nor forgive the inex- 
plicable preference of the Marquis de Bruyeres for her 
humble rival, and she called the soubrette all sorts of hard 
names in her wrath and indignation ; but nobody paid 
any attention to her bad humor, and she was left to sulk 
in solitude. 

When Zerbine asked why Matamore had not come to 
speak to her with the rest, they told her the sad story of 
his death, and also that the Baron de Sigognac now filled 
his role, under the name of Captain Fracasse. 

“ It will be a great honor for me to act with a gentle- 
man whose ancestors figured honorably in the crusades,” 
said she, ‘‘ and I only hope that my profound respect for 
him will not overwhelm me, and spoil my acting ; fortu- 
nately I have become pretty well accustomed to the 
society of people of rank lately.” 

A moment after de Sigognac knocked at the door, and 
came in to greet Zerbine, and courteously express his 
pleasure at her return. She rose as he aproached, and 
making a very low curtsey, said, “ This is for the Baron 


198 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


de Sigognac ; and this is for my comrade, Captain Fra- 
casse ; ” kissing him on both cheeks — which unexpected 
and unprecedented proceeding put poor de Sigognac 
completely out of countenance ; partly because he was 
not used to such little theatrical liberties, but more, be- 
cause he was ashamed to have such a thing happen in 
the presence of his pure and peerless Isabelle. 

And now we will return to Orestes and Pylades, who, 
after their eventful promenade in the garden, were cosily 
dining together. The former, that is to say the young 
Duke of Vallombreuse, had scarcely eaten any dinner, and 
had even neglected his glass of wine, so preoccupied was 
he with thoughts of his lovely unknown. The Chevalier 
de Vidalinc, his friend and confidant, tried in vain to draw 
him into conversation ; he replied only by monosyllables, 
or not at all, to the other’s brilliant sallies. When the 
dessert had been put upon the table, and the servants 
had retired and left them alone, the chevalier said to the 
duke : “ I am entirely at your service in this new affair, of 
course, ready to help you bag your bird in any way you 
please ; shall I go and send out the beaters to drive it 
towards your nets ? ” 

“ No, indeed, you will do nothing of the kind; I shall go 
myself, for there is nothing I enjoy so much as the pursuit 
of game, of whatever sort it may be. I would follow 
a deer, or a pheasant, to the ends of the earth but what I 
would have it ; how much more a divine creature like 
this. It is only after I have captured the flying prize 
that I lose all interest in it ; so do not, I pray you, pro- 
pose to deprive me of the delights of the chase ; the more 
difficult it is the better I like it, the more fascinating I 
find it. The most annoying thing is that women are 
always so willing to be caught ; if I could only find an 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBRE USE. 


199 


obdurate, cruel fair one, who would fly from me in 
earnest, how I should adore her ! but, alas ! such an 
anomaly does not exist on this terraqueous globe.” 

“ If I were not so well acquainted with your innumer- 
able triumphs, I should be obliged to tax you with con- 
ceit,” said Vidalinc, “ but as it is I must admit that you 
are justified in what you say. But perhaps your wish 
may be gratified this time, for the young beauty certainly 
did seem to be very modest and retiring, as well as posi- 
tively cold and forbidding in her manner of receiving 
your little act of gallantry.” 

“ We will see about that, and without any delay. Maitre 
Bilot is always ready and glad to tell all he knows when- 
ever he can secure a good listener, and he is sharp enough 
to find out very quickly pretty much all that’s worth 
knowing about his guests in the hotel. Come, we’ll go 
and drink a bottle of his best Madeira ; I will draw him 
out, and get all the information he can give us about 
this fair inmate of his house.” 

A few minutes later the two young gentlemen entered 
the Armes de France, and asked for Maitre Bilot. The 
worthy landlord came forward at once, and himself con- 
ducted them into a cosy, well-lighted room on the ground 
floor, where a bright fire was burning cheerily ; he took 
the old, dusty bottle, with cobwebs clinging about it, 
from the waiter’s hands,, drew the cork very carefully, 
and then poured the amber wine, as clear as a topaz, 
into the delicate Venetian glasses held out for it by the 
duke and his companion, with a hand as steady as if it 
had been of bronze. In taking upon himself this office 
Maitre Bilot affected an almost religious solemnity, as 
though he were a priest of Bacchus, officiating at his altar, 
and about to celebrate the mysterious rites of the ancient 


200 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


worshippers of that merry god ; nothing was wanting but 
the crown of vine leaves. He seemed to think that this 
ceremoniousness was a sort of testimony to the superior 
quality of the wine from his well-stocked cellar, which 
needed no recommendation, for it was really very good, 
worthy of even a royal table, and of wide-spread fame. 
Maitre Bilot, having finished his little performance, was 
about to withdraw, when a significant glance from the 
duke made him pause respectfully on the threshold. 

“ Maitre Bilot,” said he, “ fetch a glass for yourself 
from the buffet there, and come and drink a bumper of 
this capital wine to my health.” 

This command, for such it was in reality, was instantly 
obeyed, and after emptying his glass at a single draught, 
the well-pleased landlord stood, with one hand resting 
on the table and his eyes fixed on the duke, waiting to 
see what was wanted of him. 

“ Have you many strangers in your house now ? ” 
asked Vallombreuse, “ and who and what are they ? ” 

Bilot was about to reply, but the young duke inter- 
rupted him, and continued, “ But what’s the use of 
beating about the bush with such a wily old miscreant as 
you are, Maitre Bilot ? Who is the lady that has the 
room with a window, the third ©ne from the corner, 
looking into my garden ? Answer to the point, and you 
shall have a gold piece for every syllable.” 

“ Under those conditions,” said Bilot, with a broad 
grin, “ one must be very virtuous indeed to make use of 
the laconic style so highly esteemed by the ancients. 
However, as I am devoted to your lordship, I will answer 
in a single word — Isabelle.” 

“ Isabelle ! a charming and romantic name. But do 
not confine yourself to such Lacedaemonian brevity, Mai- 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 


201 


tre Bilot ; be prolix ! and relate to me, minutely, every- 
thing that you know about the lovely Isabelle.” 

“ I am proud and happy to obey your lordship’s com- 
mands,” the worthy landlord answered, with a low bow; 
“ my cellar, my kitchen, my tongue and myself are all at 
your lordship’s disposition. Isabelle is an actress, be- 
longing to the celebrated troupe of Seignior Herode, 
stopping at present at the Armes de France^ 

“ An actress ! ” exclaimed the young duke, with an air 
of disappointment. “ I should have taken her for a lady 
of rank, from her quiet, dignified mien, or at least a well- 
bred bourgeoises rather than a member of a band of stroll- 
ing players.” 

“ Yes, your lordship is right ; any one might think so, 
for her manners and appearance are very lady-like, and 
she has an untarnished reputation, despite the difficulties 
of her position. No one understands better how to keep 
all the gallants that hover about her at a respectful dis- 
tance ; she treats these would-be suitors for her favor 
with a cold, reserved, yet perfect politeness that there is 
no getting over.” 

“ What you say pleases me,” interrupted Vallombreuse, 

for there is nothing I so thoroughly despise as a fortress 
that is ready to capitulate before the first assault has 
been made.” 

“ It would need more than one to conquer this fair 
citadel, my lord, though you are a bold and successful 
captain, not used to encountering any serious resistance, 
and sweeping everything before you; and, moreover, it is 
guarded by the vigilant sentinel of a pure and devoted 
love.” 

“ Oh ho ! she has a lover then, this modest Isabelle ! ” 
cried the young duke, in a tone at once triumphant and 

9 * 


202 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


annoyed, for though on the one side he had no faith in 
the steadfast virtue of any woman, on the other he was 
vexed to learn that he had a successful rival. 

“ I said love, not lover,” continued the landlord with 
respectful persistency, “ which is by no means the same 
thing. Your lordship is too well versed in such matters 
not to appreciate the difference. A woman that has one 
lover may have two, as the old song says ; but a woman 
who loves, with a pure love, and has that love returned 
in every sense, it is impossible, or at least very difficult, 
to win away from it. She possesses already everything 
that you, my lord, or any one, could offer for her accept- 
ance.” 

“ You talk as if you had been studying the subject of 
love diligently — and Petrarch’s sonnets as well ; but not- 
withstanding all that, Maitre Bilot, I don’t believe you 
thoroughly understand anything outside of your own 
wines and sauces, which, I am bound to admit, are always 
excellent. And pray, who is the favored object of this 
Platonic attachment ? ” 

“One of the members of the troupe,” Bilot replied, 
“ and it is not to be wondered at, for he’s a handsome 
young fellow, and very different from the rest of them ; 
far superior, more like a gentleman than an actor ; and 
I shrewdly suspect he is one,” added the landlord, with 
a knowing look. 

“ Well, now you must be happy ! ” said the Chevalier 
de Vidalinc to his friend. “ Here are unexpected obsta- 
cles in plexity, and a perfect none-such of a prize. A 
virtuous actress is a rare phenomenon, not to be found 
every day in the week. You are in luck ! ” 

“ Are you sure,” continued the young duke, still ad- 
dressing the landlord, and without paying any attention to 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREU SE. 


203 


the last remark, “ that this chaste Isabelle does not accord 
any privileges secretly to that conceited young jackanapes ? 
I despise the fellow thoroughly, and detest him as well.” 

“Your lordship does not know her,” answered Mattre 
Bilot, “ or I should not need to declare, as I do, that she 
is as spotless as the ermine. She would rather die than 
suffer a stain upon her purity. It is impossible to see much 
of her without perceiving that ; it shines out in every- 
thing that she says and does.” 

Hereupon a long discussion followed as to the best 
manner of conducting the attack upon this fair citadel, 
which the young nobleman became more and more deter- 
mined to conquer, as new difficulties were suggested. 
The worthy landlord, who was a shrewd fellow and had 
made a just estimate of Isabelle’s character, finished by 
advising his noble interlocutor to turn his attention to 
Serafina, “ who was very charming, and not less beautiful 
than Isabelle, and who would be greatly pleased and 
flattered by his lordship’s notice.” This, because he felt 
sure that the duke would not succeed with Isabelle, in 
spite of his exalted rank, handsome person, and immense 
wealth, and he wished to spare him an inevitable disap- 
pointment. 

“ It is Isabelle that I admire, and will have,” said 
Vallombreuse, in a dry tone that put an end to the dis- 
cussion.* “ Isabelle, and no other, Maitre Bilot ! ” 

Then plunging his hand into his pocket, he drew forth 
a goodly number of gold pieces, and throwing them down 
carelessly on the table, said, “ Pay yourself for the bottle 
of wine out of this, and keep the balance.” 

The landlord gathered up the louis with a deprecating 
air, and dropped them one by one into his purse. The 
two gentlemen rose, without another word, put on their 


204 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


broad, plumed hats, threw their cloaks on their shoulders, 
and quitted the hotel. Vallombreuse took several turns 
up and down the narrow alley between the. Amies de 
France and his own garden wall, looking up searchingly 
at Isabelle’s window every time he passed under it ; but 
it was all for naught. Isabelle, now on her guard, did 
not approach the window again ; the curtain was drawn 
closely over it, and not a sign visible from without that 
the room was occupied. Tired at last of this dull work, 
the duke slowly withdrew to his own mansion, feeling 
highly indignant that this inappreciative little actress 
should presume to slight the attentions of a great and 
powerful noble like himself ; but he found some comfort 
in the thought that when she came to see and know him 
she could not long hold out against his numerous attrac- 
tions. As to his rival — if the fellow ventured to interfere 
with him too much, he would quietly suppress him, by 
means of certain stout ruffians — professional cut-throats 
— he had in his employ, to do all that sort of work for 
him ; his own dignity not allowing him to come into 
personal contact with such cattle as actors. Though 
Vallombreuse had not seen anything of Isabelle at her 
window, he himself had been closely watched, by jealous 
eyes, from a neighboring casement that commanded the 
same view. They belonged to de Sigognac, who was 
greatly annoyed and incensed by the manoeuvres of this 
mysterious personage under Isabelle’s window. A dozen 
times he was on the point of rushing down, sword in hand, 
to attack and drive away the impertinent unknown; but he 
controlled himself by a strong effort ; for there was after 
all nothing in the mere fact of a man's promenading back 
and forth in a deserted alley to justify him in such an 
onslaught, and he would only bring down ridicule on 


THE DUKE OF V ALLOMBREUSE. 


205 


himself ; besides, the name of Isabelle might be dragged 
in — sweet Isabelle, who was all unconscious of the ardent 
glances directed at her window from below, as well as of 
the burning indignation, because of them, of her own true 
lover close at hand. But he promised himself to keep a 
watchful eye for the future upon this young gallant, and 
studied his features carefully every time his face was 
raised towards Isabelle’s window, so that he should be 
sure to recognize him when he saw him again. 

Herode had selected for their first representation in 
Poitiers a new play, which all the comedians were very 
much occupied in learning and rehearsing, to be followed 
by the Rodomontades of Captain Fracasse, in which de 
Sigognac was to make his real debut before a real pub- 
lic — having only acted as yet to an audience of calves, 
horned cattle, and peasants in Bellombre’s barn. He 
was studying diligently under the direction of Blazius, 
who was more devoted to him than ever, and who had 
proposed something which was a most welcome sugges- 
tion to the sensitive young baron. This was for him to 
wear what is called a half-mask, which covers only the 
forehead and nose, but if arranged with skill alters en- 
tirely the wearer’s appearance— so that his nearest friend 
would not recognize him — without interfering materially 
with his comfort. This idea de Sigognac hailed with de- 
light, for it insured his preserving his incognito ; the 
light pasteboard screen seemed to him like the closed 
visor of a helmet, behind which he need not shrink from 
facing the enemy — that is to stay the gazing crowd on the 
other side of the footlights. With it he would take merely 
the part of the unknown, concealed intelligence that di- 
rects the movements of the marionette, and the voice that 
makes it speak ; only he should be within it, instead of 


2o6 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


behind the scenes pulling the strings — his dignity would 
have nothing to suffer in playing the game in that man- 
ner, and for this relief from a dreaded ordeal he was un- 
speakably thankful. Blazius, who never could take too 
much pains in the service of his dear baron, himself 
modelled and fashioned the little mask, very deftly, so as 
to make his stage physiognomy as unlike his real, every- 
day countenance as possible. A prominent nose, very 
red at the point, bushy, high-arched eyebrows, and an 
immensely heavy moustache drooping over his mouth, 
completely disguised the well-cut, regular features of the 
handsome young nobleman, and although in reality it 
only concealed the forehead and nose, yet it transfig- 
ured the whole face. 

There was to be a dress rehearsal the evening before 
the first representation, so that they might judge of the 
general effect in their improvised theatre, and test its 
capabilities ; and as the actresses could not very well go 
through the streets in full costume, they were to finish 
their toilets in the green-room, while the actors made 
themselves ready for the stage in the small dressing- 
closets set aside for that purpose. All the gentlemen in 
Poitiers, young and old, were wild to penetrate into this 
temple, or rather sacristy, of Thalia, where the priestesses 
of that widely worshipped muse adorned themselves to 
celebrate her mysterious rites, and a great number of 
them had succeeded in gaining admittance. They 
crowded round the actresses, offering advice as to the 
placing of a flower or a jewel, handing the powder-box 
or the rouge-pot, presenting the little hand-mirror, taking 
upon themselves all such small offices with the greatest 
“ empressement^'' and vying with each other in their gal- 
lant attendance upon the fair objects of their admiration ; 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 


207 


the younger and more timid among them holding a little 
aloof and sitting on the large chests scattered about, 
swinging their feet and twisting their moustaches, while 
they watched the proceedings of their bolder companions 
with envious eyes. Each actress had her own circle of 
admiring cavaliers about her, paying her high-flown com- 
pliments in the exaggerated language of the day, and 
doing their best to make themselves agreeable in every 
way they could think of. Zerbine laughed at them all, 
and made fun of them unmercifully, turning everything 
they said into ridicule ; yet so coquettishly that they 
thought her bewitching, in spite of her sharp tongue, 
which was like a two-edged sword. Serafina, whose 
vanity was overweening, delighted in the fulsome homage 
paid to her charms, and smiled encouragingly upon her 
throng of admirers, but Isabelle, who was intensely an- 
noyed at the whole thing, did not pay the slightest atten- 
tion to them, nor even once raise her eyes to look at them ; 
being apparently absorbed in the duties of her toilet, 
which she accomplished as quietly and modestly as pos- 
sible — having left only the finishing touches to be given in 
that public place. 

The Duke of Vallombreuse was careful, of course, not 
to miss this excellent opportunity, of which he had been 
informed by Maitre Bilot, to see Isabelle again, and 
entering'the green-room in good season, followed by his 
friend Vidalinc, marched straight up to her toilet-table. 
He was enchanted to find that, on this close inspection, 
she was even more beautiful than he had supposed, and 
in his enthusiastic delight at this discovery could scarcely 
refrain from seizing her in his arms and declaring his pas- 
sion there and then ; only the presence of the crowd of 
lookers-on saved Isabelle from what would have been a 


2o8 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


most trying and painful scene. The young duke was su- 
perbly dressed. He had spared no pains, for he wanted 
to dazzle Isabelle, and he certainly did look splendidly 
handsome. He wore a magnificent costume of rich white 
satin, slashed and trimmed with crimson, with many knots 
of ribbon about it fastened with diamond clasps, with broad 
ruffles of exquisitely fine lace at throat and wrists, with a 
wide belt of cloth of silver supporting his sword, and with 
perfumed gloves on the hands that held his white felt hat, 
with its long crimson feather. His wavy black hair fell 
around the perfect oval of his face, enhancing its smooth 
whiteness ; a delicate moustache shaded, not concealed, 
his full red lips, his splendid, great black eyes flashed 
through their thick, silky fringes, and his neck, white and 
round as a marble column, rose from amid its surround- 
ing of soft, priceless lace, proudly supporting his haughty, 
handsome head. Yet with all this perfection of outline 
and coloring, his appearance was not entirely pleasing ; 
a repelling haughtiness shone out through the perfectly 
modelled features, and it was but too evident that the 
joys and sorrows of his fellow mortals would awaken no 
sympathy in the owner of that surpassingly handsome 
face and form. He believed that he was not made of 
common clay like other men, but was a being of a higher 
order, who condescended to mingle with his inferiors — a 
piece of fine porcelain amid homely vessels of coarser 
earthenware. 

Vallombreuse stationed himself silently close beside 
the mirror on Isabelle’s dressing-table, leaning one el- 
bow on its frame— all the other gallants respectfully 
making way for him— just where she could not possibly 
help seeing him whenever she looked in the glass; a 
skilful manoeuvrq^ which would surely have succeeded 

\ 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBRE USE. 


209 


with any other than this modest young girl. He wished 
to produce an impression, before addressing a word to 
her, by his personal beauty, his lordly mien, and his 
magnificence of apparel. Isabelle, who had instantly 
recognized the audacious gallant of the garden, and who 
was displeased by the imperious ardor of his gaze, re- 
doubled her reserve of manner, and did not lift her eyes 
to the mirrror in front of her at all ; she did not even 
seem to be aware that one of the handsomest young 
noblemen in all France was standing there before her, 
trying to win a glance from her lovely eyes — but then, she 
was a singular girl, this sweet Isabelle ! At length, exas- 
perated by her utter indifference, Vallombreuse suddenly 
took the initiative, and said to her, “ Mademoiselle, you 
take the part of Sylvia in this new play, do you not ? ” 
“ Yes, sir,” Isabelle answered curtly, without looking at 
him — not able to evade this direct question. 

“Then never will a part have been so admirably 
played,” continued the duke. “ If it is poor your act- 
ing will make it excellent, if it is fine you will make it 
peerless. Ah ! happy indeed the poet whose verses 
are intrusted to those lovely lips of yours.” 

These vague compliments were only such as admiring 
gallants were in the habit of lavishing upon pretty ac- 
tresses, and Isabelle could not with any show of reason 
resent it openly, but she acknowledged it only by a very 
slight bend of the head, and still without looking up. At 
this moment de Sigognac entered the green-room; he was 
masked and in full costume, just buckling around his 
waist the belt of the big sword he had inherited from 
Matamore, with the cobweb dangling from the scabbard. 
He also marched straight up to Isabelle, and was received 
with a radiant smile. 


210 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


“ You are capitally gotten up,” she said to him in a low- 
tone, so low that he had to bend down nearer her to hear, 
“ and I am sure that no fierce Spanish captain ever had a 
more superbly arrogant air than you.” 

The Duke of Vallombreuse drew himself up to his full 
height, and looked this unwelcome new-comer over from 
head to foot, with an air of the coolest, most haughty 
disdain. ‘‘This must be the contemptible scoundrel 
they say she’s in love with,” he said to himself, swelling 
with indignation and spite — filled with amazement too — 
for he could not conceive of a woman’s hesitating for an 
instant between the magnificent young Duke of Val- 
lombreuse and this ridiculous play-actor. After the first 
rapid glance he made as if he did not perceive de Sigognac 
at all, no more than if he had been a piece of furniture 
standing there ; for him Captain Fracasse was not a man^ 
but a things and he continued to gaze fixedly at poor 
Isabelle — his eyes fairly blazing with passion — exactly as 
though no one was near. She, confused at last, and 
alarmed, blushed painfully, in spite of all her efforts to 
appear calm and unmoved, and hastened to finish what 
little remained to be done, so that she might make her 
escape, for she could see de Sigognac’s hand close spas- 
modically on the handle of his sword, and, realizing how 
he must be feeling, feared an outbreak on his part. 
With trembling fingers she adjusted a little black 
“ mouche ” near the corner of her pretty mouth, and 
pushed back her chair preparatory to risingtfrom it-* - 
having a legitimate cause for haste, as the tyrant had 
already more than once roared out from the stage door, 
“ Mesdemoiselles, are you ready ? ” 

“ Permit me. Mademoiselle,” said the duke starting 
forward, “ you have forgotten to put on an ‘ assassine,* ” 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 


2II 


and touching the tip of his forefinger to his lips he 
plunged it into the box of patches standing open on the 
dressing table, and brought one out on it. “ Permit me 
to put it on for you — here, just above your snowy bosom ; 
it will enhance its exquisite whiteness.” 

The action followed so quickly upon the words that 
Isabelle, terrified at this cruel effrontery, had scarcely 
time to start to one side, and so escape his profane touch; 
but the duke was not one to be easily balked in anything 
he particularly desired to do, and pressing nearer he again 
extended his hand towards Isabelle’s white neck, and had 
almost succeeded in accomplishing his object, when his 
arm was seized from behind, and held firmly in a grasp 
of iron. Furiously angry, he turned his head to see who 
had dared to lay hands upon his sacred person, and per- 
ceived that it was the odious Captain Fracasse. 

“ My lord duke,” said he calmly, still holding his wrist 
firmly, “ Mademoiselle is in need of no assistance from 
you, or any one else, in this matter.” Then his grasp re- 
laxed and he let go of the duke’s arm. 

Vallombreuse, who looked positively hideous at that 
moment, his face pale to ghastliness and disfigured by 
the rage he felt, grasped the hilt of his sword with the 
hand released by de Sigognac, and drew it partly out of 
its scabbard, as if he meant to attack him, his eyes flashing 
fire and every feature working in his frenzy — the baron 
meanwhile standing perfectly motionless, quietly awaiting 
the onset. / But ere he had touched him the duke stopped 
short ; a sudden thought had extinguished his blazing 
fury like a douche of cold water ; his self-control returned, 
his face resumed its wonted expression, the color came 
to his lips, and his eyes showed the most icy disdain, the 
most supreme contempt that it could be possible for one 


212 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


human being to manifest for another. He had remem- 
bered just in time that he must not so greatly demean 
himself as to cross swords with a person of no birth, and 
an actor besides ; all his pride revolted at the bare idea of 
such a thing. An insult coming from a creature so low in 
the social scale could not reach him. Does a gentleman 
declare war upon the mud that bespatters him ? However, 
it was not in his character to leave an offence unpunished, 
no matter whence it proceeded, and stepping nearer to 
de Sigognac he said, “ You impertinent scoundrel, I will 
have every bone in your body broken for you with 
cudgels, by my lackeys.” 

“You’d better take care what you do, my lord,” an- 
swered the baron, in the most tranquil tone and with 
the most careless air imaginable, “you’d much better 
take care what you do ! My bones are not so easily 
broken, but cudgels may be. I do not put up with blows 
anywhere but on the stage.” 

“ However insolent you may choose to be, you grace- 
less rascal, you cannot provoke me to do you so much 
honor as to attack you myself ; that is too high an 
ambition for such as you to realise,” said Vallombreuse, 
scornfully. 

“We will see about that, my lord duke,” de Sigognac 
replied ; “ it may happen that I, having less pride than 
yourself, will fight you, and conquer you, with my own 
hands.” 

“ I do not dispute with a masker,” said the duke short- . 
ly, taking Vidalinc’s arm as if to depart. 

“ I will show you my face, duke, at a more fitting time 
and place,” de Sigognac continued composedly, “and I 
think it will be still more distasteful to you than my false 
nose. But enough for the present. I hear the bell that 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREU SE. 


213 


summons me, and if I wait any longer here with you I 
shall miss my entry at the proper moment.” 

He turned on his heel and leisurely walked off, with 
admirable nonchalance, leaving the haughty duke very 
much disconcerted, and at a disadvantage, as indeed de 
Sigognac had cleverly managed that he should be through- 
out the brief interview. 

The comedians were charmed with his courage and 
coolness, but, knowing his real rank, were not so much 
astonished as the other spectators, of this extraordinary 
scene, who were both shocked and amazed at such 
temerity. 

Isabelle was so terrified and excited by this fierce 
altercation that a deathly pallor had overspread her 
troubled face, and Zerbine, who had flown to her assist- 
ance, had to fetch some of her own rouge and bestow it 
plentifully upon the colorless lips and cheeks before she 
could obey the tyrant’s impatient call, again resounding 
through the green-room. When she tried to rise her 
trembling knees had nearly given way under her, and but 
for the soubrette's kind support' she must have fallen to 
the floor. To have been the cause, though innocently, 
of a quarrel like this was a terrible blow to poor Isa- 
belle — sweet, pure, modest child that she was — for she 
knew that it is a dreadful thing for any woman to have 
her name mixed up in such an affair, and shrank 
from the publicity that could not fail to be given to it ; 
besides, she loved de Sigognac with fervor and devo- 
tion, though she had never acknowledged it to him, and 
the thought of the danger to which he was exposed, of a 
secret attack by the duke’s hired ruffians, or even of a 
duel with his lordship himself, drove her well nigh frantic 
with grief and terror. 


214 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


In spite of this untoward incident, the rehearsal went 
on, and very smoothly ; the theatre was found to be all 
that they could desire, and everybody acted with much 
spirit. Even poor, trembling Isabelle did herself credit, 
though her heart was heavy within her ; but for de Sigo- 
gnac’s dear sake, whose anxious glances she strove to 
meet with a reassuring smile, she succeeded in controll- 
ing her emotion, and felt inspired to do her very best. 
As to Captain Fracasse, excited by the quarrel, he acted 
superbly. Zerbine surpassed herself. Shouts of laugh- 
ter and storms of clapping followed her animated words 
and gestures. From one corner, near the orchestra, 
came such vigorous bursts of applause, leading all the 
rest and lasting longer than any, that at last Zerbine’s 
attention was attracted and her curiosity excited. Ap- 
proaching the foot-lights, in such a way as to make it 
appear part of her usual by-play, she peered over them 
and caught sight of her marquis, beaming with smiles 
and flushed from his violent efforts in her behalf. 

“The marquis is here,” she managed to whisper to 
Blazius, who was playing Pandolphe ; “just look at him ! 
how delighted he is, and how he applauds me — till he is 
actually red in the face, the dear man ! So he admires 
my acting, does he ? Well, he shall have a spicy spe- 
cimen of it, then.” 

Zerbine kept her word, and, from that on to the end 
of the piece, played with redoubled spirit. She was 
never so sparkling, so bewitchingly coquettish, so charm- • 
ingly mischievous before, and the delighted marquis was 
more fascinated than ever. The new play, entitled 
“Lygdamon et Lydias,” and written by a certain 
Georges de Scudery (a gentleman who, after having 
served with honor in the French Guards, quitted the 


THE DUKE OF VALLOMBREUSE. 


215 


sword for the pen, which he wielded with equal success), 
was next rehearsed, and highly approved by ail — without 
a single dissenting voice. Leander, who played the lead- 
ing part of Lygdamon, was really admirable in it, and 
entertained high hopes of the effect he should produce 
upon the fair ladies of Poitiers and its environs. 

But we will leave our comedians now, and follow the 
Duke of Vallombreuse and his devoted friend Vidalinc. 
Quite beside himself with rage, the young duke, after the 
scene in the green-room in which he had played so unsatis- 
factory a part to himself, returned to his own home and 
there raved to Vidalinc about his revenge, threatening 
the insolent captain with all manner of punishments, and 
going on like a madman. His friend tried in vain to 
soothe him. He rushed wildly around the room, wring- 
ing his hands, kicking the furniture about right and left, 
upsetting tables and arm-chairs, and finally, seizing a 
large Japanese vase, very curious and costly, threw it 
violently on the floor, where it broke into a thousand 
pieces. 

“ Oh ! ” he shrieked, “ if I could only smash that 
abominable blackguard like this vase, trample him under 
foot as I do this debris, and then have the remains 
of him swept up and thrown out into the dust-heap, 
where he belongs. A miserable scoundrel, that dares to 
interpose between me, the Duke of Vallombreuse, and 
the object of my desires ! If he were only a gentleman 
I would fight him, on foot or on horseback, with swords, 
daggers, pistols, anything in the shape of a weapon, until 
I had him down, with my foot on his breast, and could 
spit into the face of his corpse.” 

“Perhaps he is one,” said Vidalinc; “his audacious 
defiance looks like it. You remember what Maitre Bilot 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


ii6 

told you about Isabelle’s favored lover ? This must be 
the one, judging by his jealousy of you, and the agitation 
of the girl.” 

“ Do you really mean what you say ?” cried Vallom- 
breuse, contemptuously. “ What ! a man of birth and 
condition mingle voluntarily and on terms of equality 
with these low buffoons of actors, paint his nose red, and 
strut about the stage, receiving cuffs and kicks from 
everybody ? Oh no, Vidalinc, the thing is impossible.” 

“ But just remember,” persisted the chevalier, “ that 
mighty Jove himself resorted to the expedient of adopt- 
ing the shapes of various beasts, as well as birds, in his 
terrestrial love affairs, which was surely much more de- 
rogatory to the majesty of the king of the gods than to 
play in a comedy is to the dignity of a gentleman.” 

“ Never mind,” said the duke, as he rang a small hand- 
bell sharply ; “ be he what he may, I intend first to have 
the scamp well punished in his character of play-actor ; 
even though I should be obliged to chastise the gentle- 
man afterwards, if there prove to be one hidden behind 
that ridiculous mask — which idea I cannot credit.” 

“ If there be one ! There’s no doubt of it, I tell you,” 
rejoined his friend, with an air of conviction. “ The 
more I think of it, the more positive I am of it. Why, 
his eyes shone like stars under his overhanging false eye- 
brows, and in spite of his absurd paste-board nose he 
had a grand, majestic air about him that was very impos- 
ing, and would be utterly impossible to a low-born man.” 

“Well, so much the better,” said Vallombreuse ; “for 
if you are right, I can make his punishment twofold.” 

Meantime a servant, in rich livery, had entered, and 
after bowing low stood as motionless as a statue, with 
one hand on the knob of the door, awaiting his master’s 


THE DUKE OF FALLOMBRE USE. 


217 


orders ; which were presently given, as follows : “ Go and 
call up Basque, Azolan, Merindol, and Labriche, if they 
have gone to bed ; tell them to arm themselves with stout 
cudgels and go down to the tennis-court, find a dark 
corner near by and wait there, until the players come 
out, for a certain Captain Fracasse. They are to fall 
upon him and beat him until they leave him for dead 
upon the pavement, but to be careful not to kill him out- 
right — it might be thought that I was afraid of him if 
they did, you know,” in an aside to Vidalinc. “ I will 
be responsible for the consequences ; and with every 
blow they are to cry, ‘ This is from the Duke of Vallom- 
breuse,’ so that he may understand plainly what it 
means.” 

This order, though of so savage and fierce a nature, 
did not seem to surprise the lackey, who, as he retired, 
assured his lordship, with an unmoved countenance and 
another low bow, that his commands should be immedi- 
ately obeyed. 

“ I am sorry,” said Vidalinc, after the servant had 
closed the door behind him, “ that you mean to treat this 
man so roughly, for after all he showed a spirit superior 
to his position, and becoming a gentleman. Suppose you 
let me go and pick a quarrel with him, and kill him for 
you in a duel. All blood is red when it is shed, the 
lowly as well as the lofty, though they do pretend that 
the blood of the nobles is blue. I come of a good and 
ancient family, if not so high in rank as yours, and 
I have no fear of belittling myself in this affair. Only 
say the word, and I will go this instant, for this histrionic 
captain is, it seems to me, more worthy of the sword of a 
gentleman than the cudgels of your hired ruffians.” 

“ I thank you heartily for this offer,” answered the 
10 


2i8 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


duke, “which proves your faithful devotion to me and 
my interests, but I cannot accept it. That low scoundrel 
has dared to lay hands upon me, and he must expiate his 
crime in the most ignominious way. Should he prove 
to be a gentleman, he will be able to find redress. I 
never fail to respond, as you know, when there is ques- 
tion of settling a matter by the sword.” 

“As you please, my lord duke,” said Vidalinc, stretch- 
ing out his legs lazily and putting his feet on the fender, 
with the air of a man who can do no more, but must 
stand aside and let things take their own course. “ By the 
way, do you know that that Serafina is charming ? I paid 
her several compliments, which were very graciously re- 
ceived ; and more than that, she has promised to allow 
me to call upon her, and appointed the time. She is a 
very amiable as well as beautiful young woman. Maitre 
Bilot was perfectly correct in his statements to us.” 

After which the two gentlemen awaited, in almost un- 
broken silence, the return of the four ruffians who had 
gone forth to chastise de Sigognac. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


The rehearsal was over, and the comedians were pre- 
paring to return to their hotel ; de Sigognac, expecting 
some sort of an assault on his way through the deserted 
streets, did not lay aside Matamore’s big sword with the 
rest of his costume. It was .an excellent Spanish blade, 
very long, and with a large basket hilt, which made a 
perfect protection for the hand— altogether a weapon 
which, wielded by a brave man, was by no means to be 
despised, and which could give, as well as parry, good 
hard thrusts. Though scarcely able to inflict a mortal 
wound, as the point and edge had been blunted, accor- 
ding to the usual custom of theatrical sword owners, it 
would be, however, all that was requisite to defend its 
wearer against the cudgels of the ruffians that the Duke 
of Vallombreuse had despatched to administer his prom- 
ised punishment. Herode, who also anticipated an 
attack upon de Sigognac, and was not one to desert a 
friend when danger threatened, took the precaution to 
arm himself with the big heavy club that was used to 
give the signal — three loud raps — for the rising of the 
curtain, which made a very formidable weapon, and 
would do good service in his strong hands. 

“ Captain,” said he to the baron as they quitted the 
tennis-court, “ we will let the women go on a little way 
in advance of us, under the escort of Blazius and Lean- 

219 


220 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


der, one of whom is too old, the other too cowardly, to 
be of any service to us in case of need. And we don’t want 
to have their fair charges terrified, and deafening us with 
their shrieks. Scapin shall accompany us, for he knows 
a clever trick or two for tripping a man up, that I have 
seen him perform admirably in several wrestling bouts. 
He will lay one or two of our assailants flat on their 
backs for us before they can turn round. In any event 
here is my good club, to supplement your good sword.” 

“ Thanks, my brave friend Herode,” answered de 
Sigognac, “ your kind offer is not one to be refused ; but 
let us take our precautions not to be surprised, though 
we are in force. We will march along in single file, 
through the very middle of the street, so that these 
rogues, lurking in dark corners, will have to emerge from 
their hiding places to come out to us, and we shall be 
able to see them before they can strike us. I will draw 
my sword, you brandish your club, and Scapin must 
cut a pigeon wing, so as to make sure that his legs are 
supple and in good working order. Now, forward march ! ” 

He put himself at the head of the little column, and 
advanced cautiously into the narrow street that led from 
the tennis-court to the hotel of the Armes de France^ 
which was very crooked, badly paved, devoid of lamps, 
and capitally well calculated for an ambuscade. The 
overhanging gable-ends on either side of the way made 
the darkness in the street below them still more dense — 
a most favorable circumstance for the ruffians lying in 
wait there. Not a single ray of light streamed forth from 
the shut-up houses, whose inmates were presumably all 
sleeping soundly in their comfortable beds, and there was 
no moon that night. Basque, Azolan, Labriche and Me- 
rindol had been waiting more than half an hour for Cap- 


A MELEE AND A DUEL, 


221 


tain Fracasse in this street, which they knew he was 
obliged to pass through in returning to his hotel. They 
had disposed themselves in pairs on opposite sides of 
the way, so that when he was between them their clubs 
could all play upon him together, like the hammers of 
the Cyclops on their great anvil. The passing of the 
group of women, escorted by Blazius and Leander, none 
of whom perceived them, had warned them of the ap- 
proach of their victim, and they stood awaiting his 
appearance, firmly grasping their cudgels in readiness to 
pounce upon him ; little dreaming of the reception in 
store for them — for ordinarily, indeed one may say in- 
variably, the poets, actors, bourgeois, and such-like, whom 
the nobles condescended to have cudgeled by their hired 
ruffians, employed expressly for that purpose, took their 
chastisement meekly, and without attempting to make 
any resistance. Despite the extreme darkness of the 
night, the baron, with his penetrating eyes, made out the 
forms of the four villains lying in wait for him, at 
some distance, and before he came up with them stop- 
ped, and made as if he meant to turn back — which ruse 
deceived them completely — and fearing that their prey 
was about to escape them, they rushed impetuously forth 
from their hiding places towards him. Azolan was the 
first, closely followed by the others, and all crying at the 
tops of their voices, “ Kill ! kill ! this for Captain Fra- 
casse, from the Duke of Vallombreuse.” Meantime de 
Sigognac had wound his large cloak several times round 
his left arm for a shield, and receiving upon it the first 
blow from Azolan’s cudgel, returned it with such a vio- 
lent lunge, full in his antagonist’s breast, that the miser- 
able fellow went over backward, with great force, right 
into the gutter running down the middle of the street, 


222 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


with his head in the mud and his heels in the air. If 
the point of the sword had not been blunted, it would 
infallibly have gone through his body, and come out 
between his shoulder-blades, leaving a dead man, in- 
stead of only a .stunned one, on the ground. Basque, in 
spite of his comrade’s disaster, advanced to the charge 
bravely, but a furious blow on his head, with the flat of 
the blade, sent him down like a shot, and made him see 
scores of stars, though there was not one visible in the 
sky that night. The tyrant’s club encountering Merin- 
dol’s cudgel broke it short off, and the latter finding him- 
self disarmed, took to his heels ; not however without re- 
ceiving a tremendous blow on the shoulder before he 
could get out of Herode’s reach. Scapin, for his part, 
had seized Lebriche suddenly round the waist from be- 
hind, pinning down his arms so that he could not use his 
club at all, and raising him from the ground quickly, 
with one dexterous movement tripped him up, and sent 
him rolling on the pavement ten paces off, so violently 
that he was knocked senseless — the back of his neck com- 
ing in contact with a projecting stone— and lay appar- 
ently lifeless where he fell. 

So the way was cleared, and the victory in this fierce 
encounter was honorably gained by our hero and his two 
companions over the four sturdy ruffians, who had never 
been defeated before. They were in sorry case now — 
Azolan and Basque creeping stealthily away, on their 
hands and knees, trying undercover of the darkness to put 
themselves beyond the reach of further danger ; Labriche 
lying motionless, like a drunken man, across the gutter, 
and Merindol, less badly hurt, flying towards home as fast 
as his legs could carry him. As he drew near the house, 
however, he slackened his pace, for he dreaded the duke’s 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


223 


anger more than Herode’s club, and almost forgot, for 
the moment, the terrible agony from his dislocated 
shoulder, from which the arm hung down helpless and 
inert. Scarcely had he entered the outer door ere he 
was summoned to the presence of the duke, who was all 
impatient to learn the details of the tremendous thrash- 
ing that, he took it for granted, they had given to Captain 
Fracasse. When Merindol was ushered in, frightened 
and embarrassed, trembling in every limb, not knowing 
what to say or do, and suffering fearfully from his injured 
shoulder, he paused at the threshold, and stood speech- 
less and motionless, waiting breathlessly for a word or 
gesture of encouragement from the duke, who glared at 
him in silence. 

“Well,” at length said the Chevalier de Vidalinc to the 
discomfited Merindol, seeing that Vallomb reuse only 
stared at him savagely and did not seem inclined to 
speak, “ what news do you bring us ? Bad, I am sure, 
for you have by no means a triumphant air — very much 
the reverse, indeed, I should say.” 

“ My lord, the duke, of course cannot doubt our zeal in 
striving to execute his orders, to the best of our ability,” 
said Merindol, cringingly, “ but this time we have had 
very bad luck.” 

“ What do you mean by that ? ” asked the duke sharply, 
with an angry frown and flashing eyes, before which the 
stout ruffian quailed. “ There were four of you ! do 
you mean to tell me that, among you, you could not suc- 
ceed in thrashing this miserable play-actor ? ” 

“ That miserable play-actor, my lord,” Merindol re- 
plied, plucking up a little courage, “ far exceeds in vigor 
and bravery the great Hercules they tell us of. He fell 
upon us with such fury that in one instant he had 


224 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


knocked Azolan and Basque down into the gutter. They 
fell under his blows like paste-board puppets — yet they 
are both strong men, and used to hard knocks. Labriche 
was tripped up and cleverly thrown by another actor, 
and fell with such force that he was completely stunned ; 
the back of his head has found out that the stones of 
Poitiers pavements are harder than it is, poor fellow ! 
As for me, my thick club was broken short off by an im- 
mense stick in the hands of that giant they call Herode, 
and my shoulder so badly hurt that I shan’t have the use 
of my arm here for a fortnight.” 

“ You are no better than so many calves, you pitiful, 
cowardly knaves ! ” cried the Duke of Vallomb reuse, in a 
perfect frenzy of rage. “ Why, any old woman could put 
you to rout with her distaff, and not half try. I made 
a horrid mistake when I rescued you from the galleys and 
the gallows, and took you into my service, believing that 
you were brave rascals, and not afraid of anything or any- 
body on the face of the globe. And now, answer me 
this : When you found that clubs would not do, why 
didn’t you whip out your swords and have at him ? ” 

“ My lord had given us orders for a beating, not an 
assassination, and we would not have dared to go beyond 
his commands.” 

“ Behold,” cried Vidalinc, laughing contemptuously, 
‘‘ behold a faithful, exact and conscientious scoundrel, 
whose obedience does not deviate so much as a hair’s 
breadth from his lord’s commands. How delightful and re- 
freshing to find such purity and fidelity, combined with such 
rare courage, in the character of a professional cut-throat ! 
But now, Vallombreuse, what do you think of all this? 
This chase of yours opens well, and romantically, in a 
manner that must be immensely pleasing to you, since 


A MELEE AND A DU ED. 225 

you find the pursuit agreeable in proportion to its dif- 
ficulty, and the obstacles in the way constitute its great- 
est charms for you. I ought to congratulate you, it seems 
to me. This Isabelle, for an actress, is not easy of ac- 
cess ; she dwells in a fortress, without drawbridge or 
other means of entrance, and guarded, as we read of in 
the history of ancient chivalry, by dragons breathing out 
fl9,mes of fire and smoke. But here comes our routed 
army.” 

Azolan, Basque, and Labriche, who had recovered from 
his swoon, now presented themselves reluctantly at the 
door, and stood extending their hands supplicatingly 
towards their master. They were a miserable-looking 
set of wretches enough — very pale, fairly livid indeed, 
haggard, dirty and blood-stained ; for although they had 
only contused wounds, the force of the blows had set the 
blood flowing from their noses, and great red stains dis- 
figured their hideous countenances. 

“ Get to your kennel, ye hounds ! ” cried the duke, in 
a terrible voice, being moved only to anger by the sight 
of this forlorn group of supplicants. “ I’m sure I don’t 
know why I have not ordered you all soundly thrashed 
for your imbecility and cowardice. I shall send you my 
surgeon to examine your wounds, and see whether the 
thumps you make such a babyish outcry about really were 
as violent and overpowering as you represent. If they 
were not, I will have you skinned alive, every mother’s 
son of you, like the eels at Melun ; and now, begone ! 
out of my sight, quick, you vile canaille!" 

The discomfited ruffians turned and fled, thankful to 
make their escape, and forgetful for the moment of their 
painful wounds and bruises ; such abject terror did the 
young duke’s anger inspire in the breasts of those har- 
10* 


226 


CAPTAIN FKACASSE. 


dened villains. When the poor devils had disappeared, 
Vallomb reuse threw himself down on a heap of cushions, 
piled up on a low, broad divan beside the fire, and fell 
into a revery that Vidalinc was careful not to break in 
upon. They evidently were not pleasant thoughts that 
occupied him ; dark, tempestuous ones rather, judging by 
the expression of his handsome face, as he lay back idly 
among the soft pillows, looking very picturesque in the 
rich showy costume he still wore. He did not remain 
there long. Only a short time had elapsed when he sud- 
denly started up, with a smothered imprecation, and bid- 
ding his friend an abrupt good-night, retired to his own 
chamber, without touching the dainty little supper that 
had just been brought in. Vidalinc sat down and en- 
joyed it by himself, with perfect good humor, thinking 
meanwhile of Serafina’s remarkable beauty and amiability, 
with which he was highly charmed, and not neglecting to 
drink her health in the duke’s choice wine ere he quitted 
the table, and, following his example, retired to his own 
room, where he slept soundly, dreaming of Serafina, until 
morning ; while Vallombreuse, less fortunate, and still 
haunted by disturbing thoughts, tossed restlessly, and 
turned from side to side, courting sleep in vain, under 
the rich silken hangings drawn round his luxurious bed. 

When de Sigognac, the tyrant and Scapin reached the 
Armes de France^ after having overcome the serious ob- 
stacles in their way, they found the others in a terrible 
state of alarm about them. In the stillness of the night 
they had distinctly heard the loud cries of the duke’s ruf- 
fians, and the noise of the fierce combat, and feared that 
their poor friends were being murdered. Isabelle, nearly 
frantic in her terror lest her lover should be overpowered 
and slain, tried to rush back to him, never remembering 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


227 


that she would be more of a hindrance than a help ; but 
at the first step she had again almost fainted away, and 
would have fallen upon the rough pavement but for Bla- 
zius and Zerbine, who, each taking an arm, supported her 
between them the rest of the way to the hotel. When they 
reached it at last, she refused to go to her own room, but 
waited with the others at the outer door for news of their 
comrades, fearing the worst, yet prayerfully striving to 
hope for the best. At sight of de Sigognac — who, alarmed 
at her extreme pallor, hastened anxiously to her side — 
she impetuously raised her arms ta heaven, as a low cry 
of thanksgiving' escaped her lips, and letting them fall 
around his neck, for one moment hid her streaming eyes 
against his shoulder ; but quickly regaining her self-con- 
trol, she withdrew herself gently from the detaining arm 
that had fondly encircled her slender, yielding form, and 
stepping back from him a little, resumed with a strong 
effort her usual reserve and quiet dignity. 

“ And you are not wounded or hurt ? ” she asked, in 
her sweetest tones, her face glowing with Happiness as she 
caught his reassuring gesture ; he could not speak yet for 
emotion. The clasp of her arms round his neck had 
been like a glimpse of heaven to him — a moment of di- 
vine ecstacy. “ Ah ! if he could only snatch her to his 
breast and hold her there forever,” he was thinking, “close 
to the heart that beat for her alone,” as she continued : 
“ If the slightest harm had befallen you, because of me, 
I should have died of grief. But, oh ! how imprudent 
you were, to defy that handsome, wicked duke, who has 
the assurance and the pride of Lucifer himself, for the 
sake of a poor, insignificant girl like me. You were not 
reasonable, de Sigognac ! Now that you are a comedian, 
like the rest of us, you must learn to put up with certain 


22S 


CAP 'FA IN FPACASSE. 


impertinences and annoyances, without attempting to re- 
sent them.” 

“ I never will,” said de S.igoghac, finding his voice at 
last, “ I swear it, I n^v^ will permit an affront to be of- 
fered to the adprabk Isabelle in my presence, even when 
I have oTMhy player’s mask.” 

“Well spoken, Captain,” cried Herode, “well spoken, 
and bravely. I would not like to be the man to incur 
your wrath. By the powers above ! what a fierce recep- 
tion you gave those rascals yonder. It was lucky for 
them that poor Matamore’s sword had no edge. If it had 
been sharp and pointed, you would have cleft them from 
head to heels, clean in two, as the ancient knight-errants 
did the Saracens, and wicked enchanters.” 

“Your club did as much execution 'as my sword, He- 
rode, and your conscience need not reproach you, for they 
were not innocents that you slaughtered this time.” 

“No, indeed!” the tyrant rejoined, with a mighty 
laugh, “ the flower of the galleys these — the cream of gal- 
lows-birds.” 

“ Such jobs would scarcely be undertaken by any 
other class of fellows you know,” de Sigognac said ; “but 
we must not neglect to make Scapin’s valiant deeds 
known, and praise them as they deserve. He fought and 
conquered without the aid of any other arms than those 
that nature gave him.” 

Scapin, who was a natural buffoon, acknowledged this 
encomium with a very low obeisance — his eyes cast down, 
his hand on his heart — and with such an irresistibly com- 
ical affectation of modesty and embarrassment that they 
all burst into a hearty laugh, which did them m.uch good 
after the intense excitement and alarm. 

After this, as it was late, the comedians bade each 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


229 


Other good-night, and retired to their respective rooms ; 
excepting de Sigognac, who remained for a while in the 
court, walking slowly back and forth, cogitating deeply. 
The actor was avenged, but the gentleman was not. Must 
he then throw aside the mask that concealed his identity, 
proclaim his real name, make a commotion, and run the 
risk of drawing down upon his comrades the anger of a 
powerful nobleman } Prudence said no, but honor said 
yes. The baron could not resist its imperious voice, and 
the moment that he decided to obey it he directed his 
steps towards Zerbine’s room. 

He knocked gently at the door, which was opened 
cautiously, a very little way at first, by a servant, who in- 
stantly admitted the unexpected guest when he saw who 
it was. The large room was brilliantly lighted, with 
many rose-colored wax candles in two handsome can- 
delabra on a table covered with fine damask, on which 
smoked a dainty supper. Game and various other deli- 
cacies were there, most temptingly served. One crystal 
decanter, with sprigs of gold scattered over its shining 
surface, was filled with wine rivalling the ruby in depth 
and brilliancy of hue, whilst that in the other was clear 
and yellow as a topaz. Only two places had been laid 
on this festive board, and opposite Zerbine sat the Mar- 
quis de Bruyeres, of whom de Sigognac was in search. 
The soubrette welcomed him warmly, with a graceful 
mingling of the actress’s familiarity with her comrade 
with her respect for the gentleman. 

“ It is very charming of you to come and join us here, 
in our cozy little nest,” said the marquis to de Sigognac, 
with much cordiality, and we are right glad to welcome 
you. Jacques, lay a place for this gentleman — you will 
sup with us ? ” 


230 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


“ I will accept your kind invitation,” de Sigognac re- 
plied ; “ but not for the sake of the supper. I do not 
wish to interfere with your enjoyment, and nothing is so 
disagreeable for those at table as a looker-on who is not 
eating with them.” 

The baron accordingly sat down in the arm-chair 
rolled up for him by the servant, beside Zerbine and 
opposite the marquis, who helped him to some of the 
partridge he had been carving, and filled his wine-glass 
for him ; all without asking any questions as to what 
brought him there, or even hinting at it. But he felt 
sure that it must be something of importance that had 
caused the usually reserved and retiring young nobleman 
to take such a step as this. 

“ Do you like this red wine best, or the other ? ” 
asked the marquis. “ As for me, I drink some of 
both, so that there may be no jealous feeling between 
them.” 

“ I prefer the red wine, thank you,” de Sigognac said, 
with a smile, “ and will add a little water to it. I am 
very temperate by nature and habit, and mingle a cer- 
tain devotion to the nymphs with my worship at the 
shrine of Bacchus, as the ancients had it. But it was 
not for feasting and drinking that I was guilty of the 
indiscretion of intruding upon you at this unseemly hour. 
Marquis, I have come to ask of you a service that one 
gentleman never refuses to another. Mademoiselle Zer- 
bine has probably related to you something of what took 
place in the green-room this evening. The Duke of 
Vallombreuse made an attempt to lay hands upon Isa- 
belle, under pretext of placing a mouche for her, and 
was guilty of an insolent, outrageous, and brutal ac- 
tion, unworthy of a gentleman, which was not justi- 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


231 


fied by any coquetry or advances on the part of that 
young girl, who is as pure as she is modest, and for 
whom I feel the highest respect and esteem.” 

“And she deserves it,” said Zerbine heartily, “every 
word you say of her, as I, who know her thoroughly, can 
testify. I could not say anything but good of her, even 
if I would.” 

“ I seized the duke’s arm, and stopped him before he had 
succeeded in what he meant to do,” continued de Sigog- 
nac, after a grateful glance at the soubrette ; “he was 
furiously angry, and assailed me with threats and invec- 
tives, to which I replied with a mocking sang-froid, from 
behind my stage mask. He declared he would have me 
thrashed by his lackeys, and in effect, as I was coming 
back to this house a little while ago, four ruffians fell 
upon me in the dark, narrow street. A couple of blows 
with the flat of my sword did for two of the rascals, 
while Herode and Scapin put the other two hors-de-com- 
bat in fine style. Although the duke imagined that only 
a poor actor was concerned, yet as there is also a gentle- 
man in that actor’s skin, such an outrage cannot be 
committed with impunity. You know me, marquis, 
though up to the present moment you have kindly and 
delicately respected my incognito, for which I thank you. 
You know who and what my ancestors were, and can 
certify that the family of de Sigognac has been noble for 
more than a thousand years, and that not one who has 
borne the name has ever had a blot on his scutch- 
eon.” 

“ Baron de Sigognac,” said the marquis, addressing 
him for the first time by his own name, “ I will bear wit- 
ness, upon my honor, before whomsoever you may choose 
to name, to the antiquity and nobility of your family. 


232 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


Palamede de Sigognac distinguished himself by wonder- 
ful deeds of valor in the first crusade, to which he led a 
hundred lances, equipped, and transported thither, at his 
own expense. That was at an epoch when the ancestors 
of some of the proudest nobles of France to-day were 
not even squires. He and Hugues de Bruyeres, my own 
ancestor, were warm friends, and slept in the same tent 
as brothers in arms.” 

At these glorious reminiscences de Sigognac raised his 
head proudly, and held it high ; he felt the pure blood of 
his ancestors throbbing in his veins, and his heart beat 
tumultuously. Zerbine, who was watching him, was sur- 
prised at the strange inward beauty — if the expression 
may be allowed — that seemed to shine through the young 
baron’s ordinarily sad countenance, and illuminate it. 
“ These nobles,” she said to herself, “ are certainly a race 
by themselves ; they look as if they had sprung from the 
side of Jupiter, not been born into the world like ordi- 
nary mortals. At the least word their pride is up in 
arms, and transforms them, as it does the Baron de Sigog- 
nac now. If he should make love to me, with eyes like 
those, I simply could not resist him ; I should have to 
throw over my marquis. Why, he fairly glows with 
heroism ; he is god-like.” 

Meantime de Sigognac, in blissful ignorance of this 
ardent admiration, which would have been so distasteful 
to him, was saying to the marquis, “ Such being your 
opinion of my family, you will not, I fancy, object to 
carry a challenge from me to the Duke of Vallom- 
breuse.” 

“ Assuredly I will do it for you,” answered the mar- 
quis, in a grave, measured way, widely different from his 
habitual good-natured, easy carelessness of manner and 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


233 


speech ; “ and, moreover, I offer my own services as 
your second. To-morrow morning I will present myself 
at the duke's house in your behalf ; there is one thing 
to be said in his favor — that although he may be, in fact 
is, very insolent, he is no coward, and he will no longer 
intrench himself behind his dignity when he is made ac- 
quainted with your real rank. But enough of this sub- 
ject for the present ; I will see you to-morrow morning 
in good season, and we will not weary poor Zerbine any 
longer with our man's talk of affairs of honor. I can 
plainly see that she is doing her best to suppress a yawn, 
and we would a great deal rather that a smile should part 
her pretty red lips, and disclose to us the rows of pearls 
within. Come, Zerbine, fill the Baron de Sigognac's 
glass, and let us be merry again.” 

The soubrette obeyed, and with as much grace and 
dexterity as if she had been Hebe in person ; every- 
thing that she attempted to do she did well, this clever 
little actress. The conversation became animated, and 
did not touch upon any other grave subject, but was 
mainly about Zerbine's own acting — the marquis over- 
whelming her with compliments upon it, in which de 
Sigognac could truthfully and sincerely join him, for the 
soubrette had really shown incomparable spirit, grace, and 
talent. They also talked of the productions of M. de 
Scudery — who was one of the most brilliant writers of 
the day — which the marquis declared that he considered 
perfect, but slightly soporific ; adding that he, for his 
part, decidedly preferred the Rodomontades of Captain 
Fracasse to Lygdamon et Lydias — he was a gentleman of 
taste, the marquis ! 

As soon as he could do so without an actual breach of 
politeness, de Sigognac took his leave, and retiring to his 


234 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


own chamber locked himself in ; then took an ancient 
sword out of the woolen case in which he kept it to pre- 
serve it from rust — his father’s sword — which he had 
brought with him from home, as a faithful friend and 
ally. He drew it slowly out of the scabbard, kissing the 
hilt with fervent affection and respect as he did so, for 
to him it was sacred. It was a handsome weapon, 
richly, but not too profusely, ornamented — a sword for 
service, not for show ; its blade of bluish steel, upon 
which a few delicate lines of gold were traced, bore the 
well-known mark of one of the most celebrated armorers 
of Toledo. The young baron examined the edge criti- 
cally, drawing his fingers lightly over it, and then, resting 
the point against the door, bent it nearly double to test 
its elasticity. The noble blade stood the trial right 
valiantly, and there was no fear of its betraying its mas- 
ter in the hour of need. Delighted to have it in his hand 
again, and excited by the thought of what was in store 
for it and himself, de Sigognac began to fence vigorously 
against the wall, and to practise the various thrusts and 
passes that his faithful old Pierre, who was a famous 
swordsman, had taught him at Castle Misery. They had 
been in the habit of spending hours every day in 
these lessons, glad of some active occupation, and the 
exercise had developed the young baron’s frame, 
strengthened his muscles, and greatly augmented his 
natural suppleness and agility. He was passionately 
fond of and had thoroughly studied the noble art of 
fencing, and, while he believed himself to be still only a 
scholar, had long been a master in it — a proficient, such 
as is rarely to be found, '.even in the great cities. A 
better instructor than old Pierre he could not have had 
— not in Paris itself — and buried though he had been in 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


235 


the depths of the country, entirely isolated, and deprived 
of all the usual advantages enjoyed by young men of his 
rank, he yet had become, though perfectly unconscious of 
it, a match for the most celebrated swordsmen in France — 
that is to say, in the world — able to measure blades 
with the best of them. He may not have had all the 
elegant finish, and the many little airs and graces affected 
by the young sprigs of nobility and polished men of fash- 
ion in their sword-play, but skilful indeed must be the 
blade that could penetrate within the narrow circle of 
flashing steel in which he intrenched himself. Finding, 
after a long combat with an imaginary foe, that his hand 
had not lost its cunning, and satisfied at length both 
with himself and with his sword, which he placed near 
his bedside, de Sigognac was soon sleeping soundly, and 
as quietly as if he had never even dreamed of sending a 
challenge to that lofty and puissant nobleman, the Duke 
of Vallombreuse. 

Isabelle meanwhile could not close her eyes, because 
of her anxiety about the young baron. She knew that 
he would not allow the matter to rest where it was, and 
she dreaded inexpressibly the consequences of a quarrel 
with the duke ; but the idea of endeavoring to pre- 
vent a duel never even occurred to her. In those days 
affairs of honor were regarded as sacred things, that wo- 
men did not dream of interfering with, or rendering more 
trying to their near and dear ones by tears and lamenta- 
tions, in anticipation of the danger to be incurred by 
them. ^ 

At nine o’clock the next morning the Marquis de 
Bruyeres was astir, and went to look up de Sigognac, 
whom he found in his own room, in order to regulate 
with him the conditions of the duel. The baron asked 


\. 

236 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


him to take with him, in case of incredulity, or refusal of 
his challenge, on the duke’s part, the old deeds and an- 
cient parchments, to which large seals were suspended, 
the commissions of various sorts with royal signatures in 
faded ink, the genealogical tree of the de Sigognacs, and 
in fact all his credentials, which he had brought away from 
the chateau with him as his most precious treasures ; for 
they were indisputable witnesses to the nobility and an- 
tiquity of his house. These valuable documents, with 
their strange old Gothic characters, scarcely decipherable 
save by experts, were carefully wrapped up in a piece of 
faded crimson silk, which looked as if it might have been 
part of the very banner borne by Palamede de Sigognac 
at the head of his hundred followers in the first cru- 
sade. 

“I do not believe,” said the marquis, ‘‘that these 
credentials will be necessary ; my word should be suf- 
ficient ; it has never yet been doubted. However, as 
it is possible that this hot-headed young duke may per- 
sist in recognizing only Captain Fracasse in your person, 
I will let my servant accompany me and carry them for 
me to his house, in case I should deem it best to pro- 
duce them.” 

“You must do whatever you think proper and right,” 
de Sigognac answered ; “ I have implicit confidence in 
your judgment, and leave my honor in your hands, with- 
out a condition or reservation.” 

“ It will be safe with me, I do solemnly assure you,” 
said the Marquis de Bruyeres earnestly, “ and we will have 
satisfaction yet from this proud young nobleman, whose 
excessive insolence and outrageously imperious ways are 
more than a little offensive to me, as well as to many 
others. He is no better than the rest of us, whose blood 


A AIELEE AND A DUEL. 


237 


is as ancient and noble as his own, nor does his ducal 
coronet entitle him to the superiority he arrogates to 
himself so disagreeably. But we won’t talk any more 
about it— we must act now. Words are feminine, but 
actions are masculine, and offended honor can only be 
appeased with blood, as the old saying has it.” 

Whereupon the marquis called his servant, consigned 
the precious packet, with an admonition, to his care, and 
followed by him set off on his mission of defiance. The 
duke, who had passed a restless, wakeful night, and only 
fallen asleep towards morning, was not yet up when the 
Marquis de Bruyeres, upon reaching hjs house, told the 
servant who admitted him to announce him immediately 
to his master. The valet was aghast at the enormity of this 
demand, which was expressed in rather a peremptory 
tone. What, disturb the duke ! before he had called for 
him ! it would be as much as his life was worth to do it ; 
he would as soon venture unarmed into the cage of a 
furious lion, or the den of a royal tiger. The duke was 
always more or less surly and ill-tempered on first wak- 
ing in the morning, even when he had gone to bed in a 
good humor, as his servants knew to their cost. 

“ Your lordship had much better wait a little while, or 
call again later in the day,” said the valet persuasively, 
in answer to the marquis. “ My lord, the duke, has not 
summoned me yet, and I would not dare — ” 

“ Go this instant to your master and announce the Mar- 
quis de Bruyeres,” interrupted that gentleman, in loud, 
angry tones, “ or I will force the door and admit myself 
to his presence. I must speak to him, and that at once, 
on important business, in which your master’s honor is 
involved.” 

“ Ah ! that makes a difference,” said the servant, 


238 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


promptly, “ why didn’t your lordship mention it in the 
first place ? I will go and tell my lord, the duke, forth- 
with ; he went to bed in such a furious, blood-thirsty 
mood last night that I am sure he will be enchanted at 
the prospect of a duel this morning — delighted to have 
a pretext for fighting.” 

And the man went off with a resolute air, after respect- 
fully begging the marquis to be good enough to wait a 
few minutes. At the noise he made in opening the door 
of his master’s bedroom, though he endeavored to do it 
as softly as possible, Vallombreuse, who was only dozing, 
started up in bed^ broad awake, and looked round fiercely 
for something to throw at his head. 

“ What the devil do you mean by this ? ” he cried 
savagely. “ Haven’t I ordered you never to come in here 
until I called for you ? You shall have a hundred lashes 
for this, you scoundrel, I promise you ; and you needn’t 
whine and beg for mercy either, for you’ll get none from 
me. I’d like to know how I am to go to sleep again 
now ? ” 

“ My lord may have his faithful servant lashed to death, 
if it so please his lordship,” answered the valet, with ab- 
ject respect, “but though I have dared to transgress my 
lord’s orders, it is not without a good reason. His lord- 
ship, the Marquis de Bruyeres, is below, asking to 
speak with my lord, the duke, on important business, re- 
lating to an affair of honor, and I know that my lord 
never denies himself to any gentleman on such occasions, 
but always receives visits of that sort, at any time of day 
or night.” 

“ The Marquis de Bruyeres ! ” said the duke, surprised, 
“ have I any quarrel with him ? I don’t recollect a dif- 
ference between us ever ; and besides, it’s an age since 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


239 


I’ve seen him. Perhaps he imagines that I want to steal 
his dear Zerbine’s heart away from him; lovers are always 
fancying that everybody else is enamored of their own 
particular favorites. Here, Picard, give me my dressing- 
gown, and draw those curtains round the bed, so as to 
hide its disorder ; make haste about it, do you hear ? 
we must not keep the worthy marquis waiting another 
minute.” 

Picard bustled about, and brought to his master a 
magnificent ' dressing-gown — made, after the Venetian 
fashion, of rich stuff, with arabesques of black velvet on 
a gold ground — which he slipped on, and tied round the 
waist with a superb cord and tassels ; then, seating him- 
self in an easy-chair, told Picard to admit his early visitor. 

Good morning, my dear marquis,” said the young 
duke smilingly, half rising to salute his guest as he entered. 
“ I am very glad to see you, whatever your errand maybe. 
Picard, a chair for his lordship ! Excuse me, I pray you, 
for receiving you so unceremoniously here in my bedroom, 
which is still in disorder, and do not look upon it as a lack 
of civility, but rather as a mark of my regard for you. 
Picard said that you wished to see me immediately.” 

“ I must beg you to pardon me^ my dear duke,” the 
marquis hastened to reply, “for insisting so strenuously 
upon disturbing your repose, and cutting short perhaps 
some delicious dream ; but I am charged to see you 
upon a mission, which, among gentlemen, will not brook 
delay.” 

“ You excite my curiosity to the highest degree,” said 
Vallombreuse, “ and I cannot even imagine what this 
urgent business may be about.” 

“ I suppose it is not unlikely, my lord,” rejoined the mar- 
quis, “ that you have forgotten certain occurrences that 


240 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


took place last evening. Such trifling matters are not apt 
to make a very deep impression, so with your permission 
I will recall them to your mind. In the so-called green- 
room, down at the tennis-court, you deigned to honor 
with your particular notice a young person, Isabelle by 
name, and with a playfulness that I, for my part, do not 
consider criminal, you endeavored to place an assassine 
for her, just above her white bosom, complimenting her 
upon its fairness as you did so. This proceeding, which 
I do not criticise, greatly shocked and incensed a certain 
actor standing by, called Captain Fracasse, who rushed 
forward and seized your arm.” 

“ Marquis, you are the most faithful and conscientious 
of historiographers,” interrupted Vallombreuse. “That 
is all true, every word of it, and to finish the narrative I 
will add that I promised the rascal, who was as insolent 
as a noble, a sound thrashing at the hands of my lackeys ; 
the most appropriate chastisement I could think of, for a 
low fellow of that sort.” 

“No one can blame you for that, my dear duke, for 
there is certainly no very great harm in having a play- 
actor — or writer either, for that matter — thoroughly 
thrashed, if he has had the presumption to offend,” 
said the marquis, with a contemptuous shrug ; “ such 
cattle are not worth the value of the sticks broken over 
their backs. But this is a different case altogether. 
Under the mask of Captain Fracasse — who, by the way, 
routed your rufidans in superb style — is the Baron de 
Sigognac ; a nobleman of the old school, the head of one 
of the best families we have , in Gascony ; one that has 
been above reproach for many centuries.” 

“ What the devil is he doing in this troupe of strolling 
players, pray?” asked the duke of Vallombreuse, with 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


241 


some heat, toying nervously with the cord and tassels of 
his dressing-gown as he spoke. ‘‘ Could I be expected 
to divine that there was a de Sigognac hidden under that 
grotesque costume, and behind that absurd false nose ? ” 

“ As to your first question,” the marquis replied, “ I 
can answer it in one word — Isabelle. Between ourselves, 
I believe that the young baron is desperately in love with 
her. Indeed, he makes no secret of that fact ; and, not 
having been able to induce her to remain with him in his 
chateau, he has joined the troupe of which she is a mem- 
ber, in order to pursue his love affair. You certainly ought 
not to find this gallant proceeding in bad taste, since you 
also admire the fair object of his pursuit.” 

“No ; I admit all that you say. But you, in your turn, 
must acknowledge that I could not be cognisant of this 
extraordinary romance by inspiration, and that the action 
of Captain Fracasse was impertinent.” 

“ Impertinent for an actor, I grant you,” said the mar- 
quis, “ but perfectly natural, indeed inevitable, for a gen- 
tleman, resenting unauthorized attentions to his mistress, 
and angry at an affront offered to her. Now Captain Fra- 
casse throws aside his mask, and as Baron de Sigognac 
sends you by me his challenge to fight a duel, and demands 
redress in that way for the insult you have offered him.” 

“ But who is to guarantee me that this pretended Baron 
de Sigognac, who actually appears on the stage before the 
public with a company of low buffoons as one of them- 
selves,- is not a vulgar, intriguing rascal, usurping an 
honorable name, in the hope of obtaining the honor of 
crossing swords with the Duke of Vallombreuse ? ” 

“ Duke,” said the Marquis de Bruyeres, with much 
dignity, and some severity of tone, “ / would not serve 
as second to any man who was not of noble birth, and 


242 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


of honorable character. I know the Baron de Sigognac 
well. His chateau is only a few leagues from my estate. 
/ will be his guarantee. Besides, if you still persist in 
entertaining any doubts with regard to his real rank, I 
have here with me all the proofs necessary to convince 
you of his right to the ancient and distinguished name of 
Sigognac. Will you permit me to call in my servant, who 
is waiting in the antechamber ? He will give you all 
those documents, for which I am personally responsible.” 

“ There is no need,” Vallombreuse replied courteously; 
‘‘ your word is sufficient. I accept his challenge. My 
friend, the Chevalier de Vidalinc, who is my guest at 
present, will be my second ; will you be good enough to 
consult with him as to the necessary arrangements ? I 
will agree to anything you may propose — fight him when 
and where you please, and with any weapons he likes best ; 
though I will confess that I should like to see whether 
the Baron de Sigognac can defend himself against a gen- 
tleman’s sword as successfully as Captain Fracasse did 
against my lackeys’ cudgels. The charming Isabelle 
shall crown the conqueror in this tournament, as the fair 
ladies crowned the victorious knights in the grand old 
days of chivalry. But now allow me to retire and finish 
my toilet. The Chevalier de Vidalinc will be with you 
directly. I kiss your hand, valiant marquis, as our Span- 
ish neighbors say.” 

With these courteous words the Duke of Vallombreuse 
bowed with studied deference and politeness to his noble ' 
guest, and lifting the heavy portiere ” of tapestry that 
hung over the door opening into his dressing-room, 
passed through it and vanished. But a very few 
moments had elapsed when the Chevalier de Vidalinc 
joined the marquis, and they lost no time in coming to 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


243 


an understanding as to the conditions of the duel. As a 
matter of course, they selected swords — the gentleman’s 
natural weapon— and the meeting was fixed for the fol- 
lowing morning, early ; as de Sigognac, with his wonted 
consideration for his humble comrades, did not wish to 
fight that same day, and run the risk of interfering with 
the programme Herode had announced for the evening, 
in case of his being killed or wounded. The rendezvous 
was at a certain spot in a field outside the walls of the 
town, which was level, smooth, well sheltered from obser- 
vation, and advantageous in every way — being the favor- 
ite place of resort for such hostile meetings among the 
duellists of Poitiers. 

The Marquis de Bruyeres returned straightway to the 
Armes de France, and rendered an account of the suc- 
cess of his mission to de Sigognac ; who thanked him 
warmly for his services, and felt greatly relieved, now 
that he was assured of having the opportunity to resent, 
as a gentleman should do, the affront offered to his 
adored Isabelle. 

The representation was to begin very early that even- 
ing, and all day the town crier went about through the 
streets, beating his drum lustily, and, whenever he had 
gathered a curious crowd around him, stoppii^ and an- 
nouncing the “ great attractions offered for that evening 
by Herode’s celebrated troupe.” Immense placards 
were posted upon the walls of the tennis-court and at the 
entrance of the Armes de France, also announcing, in 
huge, bright-colored capitals, which reflected great credit 
on Scapin, who was the calligraphist of the troupe, the 
new play of “ Lygdamon et Lydias,” and the Rodomon- 
tades of Captain Fracasse. Long befote the hour desig- 
nated an eager crowd had assembled in the street in 


244 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


front of the theatre, and when the doors were opened I 

poured in, like a torrent that has burst its bounds, and I 

threatened to sweep everything before them. Order | 

was quickly restored, however, within, and “ the nobility f 

and gentry of Poitiers” soon began to arrive in rapid sue- * 

cession. Titled dames, in their sedan chairs, carried by 
liveried servants, alighted amid much bowing and flour- ] 
ishing of attendant gallants. Gentlemen from the en- » 
virons came riding in, followed by mounted grooms who 
led away their masters’ horses or mules. Grand, clumsy j 

old carriages, vast and roomy, with much tarnished gild- ? 

ing and many faded decorations about them, and with f 

coats-of-arms emblazoned on their panels, rolled slowly | 

up, and out of them, as out of Noah’s ark, issued all sorts < 

of odd-looking pairs, and curious specimens of provincial i 

grandeur ; most of them resplendent in the strange fash- | 

ions of a bygone day, yet apparently well satisfied with | 

the elegance of their appearance. The house was liter- 
ally packed, until there was not room left for another hu- ^ 

man being, be he never so slender. On each side of the J 

stage was a row of arm-chairs, intended for distinguished ' 

spectators, according to the custom of the times, and ■< 

there sat the young Duke of Vallomb reuse, looking J 

exceedingly handsome, in a very becoming suit of . 

black velvet, elaborately trimmed with jet, and with a 
great deal of exquisite lace about it. Beside him was his | 
faithful friend, the Chevalier de Vidalinc, who wore a 
superb costume of dark green satin, richly ornamented ‘ - 
with gold. As to the Marquis de Bruyeres, he had not 
claimed his seat among the notables, but was snugly en- ■ 
sconced in his usual place — a retired corner near the or- 
chestra — whence he could' applaud his charming Zerbine ' 
to his heart’s content, without making himself too con 



A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


245 . 


spicuous. In the boxes were the fine ladies, in full dress, 
settling themselves to their satisfaction with much rust- 
ling of silks, fluttering of fans, whispering and laugh- 
ing. Although their finery was rather old-fashioned, the 
general effect was exceedingly brilliant, and the display 
of magnificent jewels — tamily heirlooms — was fairly daz- 
zling. Such flashing of superb diamonds on white bosoms 
and in dark tresses ; such strings of large, lustrous pearls 
round fair necks, and twined amid sunny curls ; such 
rubies and sapphires, with their radiant surroundings 
of brilliants ; such thick, heavy chains of virgin gold, 
of curious and beautiful workmanship ; such priceless 
laces, yellow with age, of just that much-desired tint 
which is creamy at night ; such superb old brocades, 
stiff and rich enough to stand alone ; and, best of all, 
such sweet, sparkling, young faces, as were to be seen 
here and there in this aristocratic circle. A few of the 
ladies, not wishing to be known, had kept on their little 
black velvet masks, though they did not prevent their 
being recognized, spoken of by name, and commented on 
with great freedom by the plebeian crowd in the pit. 
One lady however, who was very carefully masked, and 
attended only by a maid, baffled the curiosity of all ob- 
servers. She sat a little back in her box, so that the full 
blaze of light should not fall upon her, and a large black 
lace veil, which was loosely fastened under her chin, cov- 
ered her head so effectually that it was impossible to 
make out even the color of her hair. Her dress was rich 
and elegant in the extreme, but sombre in hue, and in 
her hand she held a handsome fan made of black feath- 
ers, with a tiny looking - glass in the centre. A great 
many curious glances were directed at her, which mani- 
festly made her uneasy, and she shrank still further back 


246 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


in her box to avoid them ; but the orchestra soon struck 
up a merry tune, and attracted all eyes and thoughts to 
the curtain, which was about to rise, so that the mysteri- 
ous fair one was left to her enjoyment of the animated 
scene in peace. They began with “ Lygdamon et Lydi- 
as,” in which Leander, who played the principal part, 
and wore a most becoming new costume, was quite over- 
whelmingly handsome. His appearance was greeted by 
a murmur of admiration and a great whispering among 
the ladies, while one unsophisticated young creature, just 
emancipated from her convent-school, exclaimed raptur- 
ously, aloud, “Oh! how charming he is!” for which 
shocking indiscretion she received a severe reprimand 
from her horrified mama, that made her retire into the 
darkest corner of the box, covered with blushes and con- 
fusion. Yet the poor girl had only innocently given ex- 
pression to the secret thought of every woman in the 
audience, her own dignified mother included ; for, really, 
Leander was delightfully, irresistibly handsome as Lyg- 
damon — a perfect Apollo, in the eyes of those provincial 
dames. But by far the most agitated of them all was the 
masked beauty ; whose heaving bosom, trembling hand 
— betrayed by the fan it held— and eager attitude- — lean- 
ing breathlessly forward and intently watching Leander’s 
every movement — would inevitably have borne witness 
to her great and absorbing interest in him, if anybody 
had been observing her to mark her emotion ; but for- 
tunately for her all eyes were turned upon the stage, so 
she had time to recover her composure. Leander was 
surpassing himself in his acting that night, yet even then 
he did not neglect to gaze searchingly round the circle 
of his fair admirers, trying to select the titled dames, 
and decide which one among them he should favor with 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


247 


his most languishing glances. As he scrutinized one af- 
ter another, his eyes finally reached the masked lady, and 
at once his curiosity was on the qui vive — here was assur- 
edly something promising at last ; he was convinced that 
the richly dressed, graceful incognita was a victim to his 
own irresistible charms, and he directed a long, eloquent, 
passionate look full at her, to indicate that she was un- 
derstood. To his delight — his rapturous, ecstatic delight 
— she answered his appealing glance by a very slight 
bend of the head, which was full of significance, as 
if she would thank him for his penetration. Being 
thus happily brought en rapport^ frequent glances were 
exchanged throughout the play, and even little sig- 
nals also, between the hero on the stage and the lady in 
her box, Leander was an adept in that sort of thing, 
and could so modulate his voice and use his really fine 
eyes in making an impassioned declaration of love to the 
heroine of the play, that the fair object of his admiration 
in the audience would believe that it was addressed ex- 
clusively to herself. Inspired by this new flame, he 
acted with so much spirit and animation that he was 
rewarded with round after round of applause ; which 
he had the art to make the masked lady understand he 
valued less than the faintest mark of approbation and 
favor from her. 

After “ Lygdamon et Lydias ” came the Rodomon- 
tades of Captain Fracasse, which met with its accustomed 
success. Isabelle was rendered very uneasy by the close 
proximity of the Duke of Vallombreuse, dreading some 
act of insolence on his part ; but her fears were need- 
less, for he studiously refrained from annoying her in 
any way — even by staring at her too fixedly. He was 
moderate in his applause, and quietly attentive, as he sat 


248 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


in a careless attitude in his arm-chair on the stage 
throughout the piece. His lip curled scornfully some- 
times when Captain Fracasse was receiving the shower of 
blows and abuse that fell to his share, and his whole 
countenance was expressive of the most lofty disdain, 
but that was all ; for though violent and impetuous by 
nature, the young duke was too much of a gentleman — 
once his first fury past — to transgress the rules of courtesy 
in any way ; and more especially towards an adversary 
with whom he was to fight on the morrow — until then 
hostilities were suspended, and he religiously observed 
the truce. 

The masked lady quietly withdrew a little before the 
end of the second piece, in order to avoid mingling with 
the crowd, and also to be able to regain her chair, which 
awaited her close at hand, unobserved ; her disappear- 
ance mightily disturbed Leander, who was furtively 
watching the movements of the mysterious unknown. 
The moment he was free, almost before the curtain had 
fallen, he threw a large cloak around him to conceal his 
theatrical costume, and rushed towards the outer door in 
pursuit of her. The slender thread that bound them 
together would be broken past mending he feared if he 
did not find her, and it would be too horrible to lose sight 
of this radiant creature — as he styled her to himself — 
before he had been able to profit by the pronounced 
marks of favor she had bestowed upon him so lavishly 
during the evening. But when he reached the street, 
all out of breath from his frantic efforts in dashing 
through the crowd, and hustling people right and left 
regardless of everything but the object he had in view, 
there was nothing to be seen of her ; she had vanished, 
and left not a trace behind. Leander reproached him- 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


249 


self bitterly with his own folly in not having endeavored 
to exchange a few words with his lost divinity in the 
brief interval between the two plays, and called himself 
every hard name he could think of ; as we are all apt to 
do in moments of vexation. But while he still stood 
gazing disconsolately in the direction that she must have 
taken, a little page, dressed in a dark brown livery, and 
with his cap pulled down over his eyes, suddenly ap- 
peared beside him, and accosted him politely in a high 
childish treble, which he vainly strove to render more 
manly. “ Are you Monsieur Leander ? the one who 
played Lygdamon a while ago ? ” 

“Yes, I am,” answered Leander, amused at the pre- 
tentious airs of his small interlocutor, “ and pray what 
can I do for you, my little man ? ’ ’ 

“ Oh ! nothing for me, thank you,” said the page, with 
a significant smile, “ only I am charged to deliver a mes- 
sage to you — if you are disposed to hear it — from the 
lady of the mask.” 

“ From the lady of the mask ! ” cried Leander. “Oh ! 
tell me quickly what it is ; I am dying to hear it.” 

“ Well, here it is then, word for word,” said the tiny 
page jauntily. “ If Lygdamon is as brave as he is gallant, 
he will go at midnight to the open square in front of the 
church, where he will find a carriage awaiting him ; he will 
enter it without question, as without fear, and go whither 
it will take him.” 

Before the astonished Leander had time to answer, the 
page had disappeared in the crowd, leaving him in great 
perplexity- —for if his heart beat high with joy at the idea 
of a romantic adventure, his shoulders still reminded him 
painfully of the beating he had received in a certain park 
at dead of night, and he remembered with a groan how 


250 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


he had been lured on to his own undoing. Was this 
another snare spread for him by some envious wretch 
who begrudged him his brilliant success that evening, 
and was jealous of the marked favor he had found in 
the eyes of the fair ladies of Poitiers ? Should he en- 
counter some furious husband at the rendezvous, sword 
in hand, ready to fall upon him and run him through 
the body ? These thoughts chilled his ardor, and had 
nearly caused him to disregard entirely the page’s myste- 
rious message. Yet, if he did not profit by this tempt- 
ing opportunity, which looked so promising, he might 
make a terrible mistake ; and, if he failed to go, would 
not the lady of the mask suspect him of cowardice, 
and be justified in so doing ? This thought was insup- 
portable to the gallant Leander, and he decided to ven- 
ture, though — low be it spoken — in fear and trembling. 
He hastened back to the hotel, scarcely touched the sub- 
stantial supper provided for the comedians — his appetite 
lost in his intense excitement — and retiring to his own 
chamber made an elaborate toilet ; curling and perfum- 
ing his hair and moustache, and sparing no pains to 
make himself acceptable to the lovely lady of the mask. 
He armed himself with a dagger and a sword, though he 
did not know how to use either ; but he thought that 
the mere sight of them might inspire awe. When he was 
all ready at last, he drew his broad felt hat well down 
over his eyes, threw the corner of his cloak over his 
shoulder, in Spanish fashion, so as to conceal the lower 
part of his face, and crept stealthily out of the hotel — for 
once being lucky enough to escape the observation of 
his wily tormentor, Scapin, who was at that moment 
snoring his loudest in his own room at the other end of 
the house. The streets had long been empty and de- 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


251 


serted, for the good people of the ancient and respecta- 
ble town of Poitiers go early to bed. Leander did not 
meet a living creature, excepting a few forlorn, home- 
less cats, prowling about and bewailing themselves in a 
melancholy way, that fled before him, and vanished round 
dark corners or in shadowy doorways. Our gallant 
reached the open square designated by the little page 
just as the last stroke of twelve was vibrating in the still 
night air. It gave him a shudder ; a superstitious sensa- 
tion of horror took possession of him, and he felt as if 
he had heard the tolling of his own funeral bell. For 
an instant he was on the point of rushing back, and 
seeking quiet, safe repose in his comfortable bed at the 
Armes de France., but was arrested by the sight of the 
carriage standing there waiting for him, with the tiny 
page himself in attendance, perched on the step and 
holding the door open for him. So he was obliged to 
go on — for few people in this strange world of ours 
have the courage to be cowardly before witnesses — and 
instinctively acting a part, he advanced with a deliberate 
and dignified bearing, that gave no evidence of the in- 
ward fear and agitation that had set his heart beating as 
if it would burst out of his breast, and sent strong shiv- 
ers over him from his head to his feet. Scarcely had he 
taken his seat in the carriage when the coachman touched 
his horses with the whip, and they were off at a good 
round pace ; whilst he was in utter darkness, and did 
not even know which way they went,' as the leathern 
curtains were carefully drawn down, so that nothing 
could be seen from within, or without. The small page 
remained at his post on the carriage step, but spoke 
never a word, and Leander could not with decency ques- 
tion him, much as he would have liked to do so. He 


252 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


knew that his surroundings were luxurious, for his ex- 
ploring fingers told him that the soft, yielding cushions, 
upon which he was resting, were covered with velvet, 
and his feet sank into a thick, rich rug, while the vague, 
delicious perfume, that seemed to surround and caress 
him, soothed his ruffled feelings, and filled his mind with 
rapturous visions of bliss. He tried in vain to divine 
who it could be that had sent to fetch him in this de- 
lightfully mysterious way, and became more curious than 
ever, and also rather uneasy again, when he felt that the 
carriage had quitted the paved streets of the town, and 
was rolling smoothly and rapidly along over a country 
road. At last it stopped, the little page jumped down 
and flung the door wide open, and Leander, alighting, 
found himself confronted by a high, dark wall, which 
seemed to inclose a park, or garden ; but he did not 
perceive a wooden door close at hand, until his small 
companion, pushing back a rusty bolt, proceeded to open 
it, with considerable difficulty, and admitted him into 
what was apparently a thick wood. 

“Take hold of my hand,” said the page patronizingly 
to Leander, “ so that I can guide you ; it is too dark for 
you to be able to make out the path through this laby- 
rinth of trees.” 

Leander obeyed, and both walked cautiously forward, 
feeling their way as they wound in and out among the 
trees, and treading the crackling, dry leaves, strewn 
thickly upon the ground, under their feet. Emerging 
from the wood at last, they came upon a garden, laid 
out in the usual style, with rows of box bordering 
the angular flower beds, and with yew trees, cut into 
pyramids, at regular intervals ; which, just perceptible in 
the darkness, looked like sentinels posted on their way — a 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


253 


shocking sight for the poor timid actor, who trembled in 
every limb. They passed them all, however, unchal- 
lenged, and ascended some stone steps leading up to a 
terra.ce, on which stood a small country house — a sort of 
pavilion, with a dome, and little turrets at the corners. 
The place seemed quite deserted, save for a subdued 
glimmer of light from one large window, which the thick 
crimson silk curtains within could not entirely conceal. 
At this reassuring sight Leander dismissed all fear from 
his mind, and gave himself up to the most blissful antici- 
pations. He was in a seventh heaven of delight ; his 
feet seemed to spurn the earth ; he would have flown 
into the presence of the waiting angel within if he had 
but known the way. How he wished, in this moment of 
glory and triumph, that Scapin, his mortal enemy and 
merciless tormentor, could see him. The tiny page 
stepped on before him, and after opening a large glass 
door and showing him into a spacious apartment, fur- 
nished with great luxury and elegance, retired and left 
him alone, without a word. The vaulted ceiling — which 
was the interior of the dome seen from without — was 
painted to represent a light blue sky, in which small rosy 
clouds were floating, and bewitching little Loves flying 
about in all sorts of graceful attitudes, while the walls were 
hung with beautiful tapestry. The cabinets, inlaid with 
exquisite Florentine mosaics and filled with many rare 
and curious objects of virtu, the round table covered 
with a superb Turkish cloth, the large, luxurious easy- 
chairs, the vases of priceless porcelain filled with fragrant 
flowers, all testified to the wealth and fastidious taste of 
their owner. The richly gilded candelabra, of many 
branches, holding clusters of wax candles, which shed 
their soft, mellow light on all this magnificence, were up- 


254 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


held by sculptured arms and hands in black marble, to 
represent a negro’s, issuing from fantastic white marble 
sleeves ; as if the sable attendants were standing without 
the room, and had passed their arms through apertures 
in the wall. 

Leander, dazzled by so much splendor, did not at 
first perceive that there was no one awaiting him in 
this beautiful apartment, but when he had recovered 
from his first feeling of astonishment, and realized that 
he was alone, he proceeded to take off his cloak and lay 
it, with his hat and sword, on a chair in one corner, after 
which he deliberately rearranged his luxuriant ringlets in 
front of a Venetian mirror, and then, assuming his most 
graceful and telling pose, began pouring forth in dul- 
cet tones the following monologue : “ But where, oh ! 
where, is the divinity of this Paradise ? Here is the 
temple indeed, but I see not the goddess. When, oh ! 
when, will she deign to emerge from the cloud that veils 
her perfect form, and reveal herself to these adoring 
eyes, that wait so impatiently to behold her ? ” rolling the 
said organs of vision about in the most effective manner 
by way of illustration. 

Just at that moment, as if in response to this eloquent 
appeal, the crimson silk hanging, which fell in front of 
a door that Leander had not noticed, was pushed aside, 
and the lady he had come to seek stood before him ; with 
the little black velvet mask still over her face, to the 
great disappointment and discomfiture of her expectant 
suitor. “ Can it be possible that she is ugly ? ” he thought 
to himself ; “ this obstinate clinging to the mask alarms ' 
me.” But his uncertainty was of short duration, for the 
lady, advancing to the centre of the room, where Leander 
stood respectfully awaiting her pleasure, untied the 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


255 


strings of the mask, took it off, and threw it down on the 
tabic, disclosing a rather pretty face, with tolerably regu- 
lar features, large, brilliant, brown eyes, and smiling red 
lips. Her rich masses of dark hair were elaborately 
dressed, with one long curl hanging down upon her neck, 
and enhancing its whiteness by contrast ; the uncovered 
shoulders were plump and shapely, and the full, snowy 
bosom rose and fell tumultuously under the cloud of 
beautifully fine lace that veiled, not concealed, its volup- 
tuous curves. 

“ Madame la Marquise de Bruyeres ! ” cried Leander, 
astonished to the highest degree, and not a little agitated, 
as the remembrance of his last, and first, attempt to meet 
her, and what he had found in her place, rushed back 
upon him ; ‘‘ can it be possible ? am I dreaming ? or may 
I dare to believe in such unhoped-for, transcendent hap- 
piness ? ” 

“ Yes ; you are not mistaken, my dear friend,” said 
she, “ I am indeed the Marquise de Bruyeres, and 
recognized, I trust, by your heart as well as your 
eyes.” 

“ Ah ! but too well,” Leander replied, in thrilling 
tones. “ Your adored image is cherished there, traced 
in living lines of light ; I have only to look into that de- 
voted, faithful heart, to see and worship your beauteous 
form, endowed with every earthly grace, and radiant 
with every heavenly perfection.” 

“ I thank you,” said the marquise^ “ for having retained 
such a kind and tender remembrance of me ; it proves 
that yours is a noble, magnanimous soul. You had every 
reason to think me cruel, ungrateful, false — when, alas ! 
m.y poor heart in reality is but too susceptible, and I 
was far from being insensible to the passionate admiration 


256 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


you so gracefully testified for me. Your letter addressed 
to me did not reach my hands, but unfortunately fell 
into those of the marquis — through the heartless treachery 
of the faithless maid to whom it was intrusted — and he 
sent you the answer which so cruelly deceived you, my 
poor Leander ! Some time after he showed me that let- 
ter, laughing heartily over what he was wicked enough 
to call a capital joke ; that letter, in every line of which 
the purest, most impassioned love shone so brightly, and 
filled my heart with joy, despite his ridicule and coarse 
abuse. It did not produce the effect upon me that he ex- 
pected and intended ; the sentiment I cherished secretly 
for you was only increased and strengthened by its per- 
suasive eloquence, and I resolved to reward you for all 
that you had suffered for my sake. Knowing my hus- 
band to be perfectly absorbed in his most recent con- 
quest, and so oblivious of me that there was no danger 
of his becoming aware of my absence from the Chateau 
de Bruyeres, I have ventured to come to Poitiers ; for I 
have heard you express fictitious love so admirably, that 
I long to know whether you can be as eloquent and con- 
vincing when you speak for yourself.” 

“ Madame la Marquise,” said Leander, in his sweetest 
tones, sinking gracefully on his knees, upon a cushion at 
the feet of the lady, who had let herself fall languidly 
into a low easy-chair, as if exhausted by the extreme 
effort that her confession had been to her modesty. 

Madame, or rather most lovely queen and deity, what 
can mere empty words, counterfeit passion, imaginary 
raptures, conceived and written in cold blood by the’ 
poets, and make-believe sighs, breathed out at the feet of 
an odious actress, all powdered and painted, whose eyes 
are wandering absently around the theatre — what can 



“‘MY THOUGHTS SOAR FAR ABOVE AND BEYOND HER.’” 




A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


257 


these be beside the living words that gush out from the 
soul, the fire that burns in the veins and arteries, the hy- 
perboles of an exalted passion, to which the whole uni- 
verse cannot furnish images brilliant and lofty enough to 
apply to its idol, and the aspirations of a wildly loving 
heart, that would *fain break forth from the breast that 
contains it, to serve as a footstool for the dear object of 
its adoration ? You deign to say, celestial marquise, that 
I express with some feeling the fictitious love in the 
pieces I play. Shall I tell you why it is so ? Because I 
never look at, or even think of, the actress whom I seem 
to address — my thoughts soar far above and beyond her — 
and I speak to my own perfect ideal ; to a being, noble, 
beautiful, spirituelle as yourself, Madame la Marquise ! 
It is you, in fine, you that I see and love under the name 
of Silvie, Doralice, Isabelle, or whatever it may chance to 
to be ; they are only your phantoms for me.” 

With these words Leander, who was too good an actor 
to neglect the pantomime that should accompany such a 
declaration, bent down over the hand that the marquise 
had allowed him to take, and covered it with burning 
kisses ; which delicate attention was amiably received, and 
his real love-making seemed to be as pleasing to her lady- 
ship as even he could have desired. 

The eastern sky was all aflame with the radiance of the 
coming sun when Leander, well wrapped in his warm 
cloak, was driven back to Poitiers. As he lifted a corner 
of one of the carefully lowered curtains, to see which 
side of the town they were approaching, he caught sight 
of the Marquis de Bruyeres and the Baron de Sigognac, 
still at some distance, who were walking briskly along 
the road towards him, on their way to the spot desig- 
nated for the duel. Leander let the curtain drop, so 


258 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


as not to be seen by the marquis, who was almost grazed 
by the carriage wheels as they rolled by him, and a satis- 
fied smile played round his lips ; he was revenged — the 
beating was atoned for now. 

The place selected for the hostile meeting between the 
Baron de Sigognac and the Duke of* Vallombreuse was 
sheltered from the cold north wind by a high wall, which 
also screened the combatants from the observation of 
those passing along the road. The ground was firm, well 
trodden down, without stones, tufts of grass, or inequal- 
ities of any kind, which might be in the way of the 
swordsmen, and offered every facility to men of honor to 
murder each other after the most correct and approved 
fashion. The Duke of Vallombreuse and the Chevalier 
de Vidalinc, followed by a surgeon, arrived at the ren- 
dezvous only a few seconds after the others, and the four 
gentlemen saluted each other with the haughty courtesy 
and frigid politeness becoming to well-bred men meet- 
ing for such a purpose. The duke’s countenance was 
expressive of the most careless indifference, as he felt 
perfect confidence in his own courage and skill. The 
baron was equally cool and collected, though it was his 
first duel, and a little nervousness or agitation would 
have been natural and excusable. The Marquis de 
Bruyeres watched him with great satisfaction, auguring 
good things for their side from his quiet sang-froid. Val- 
lombreuse immediately threw off his cloak and hat, and 
unfastened his pourpoint^ in which he was closely imi- 
tated by de Sigognac. The marquis and the chevalier 
measured the swords of the combatants, which were 
found to be of equal length, and then each second 
placed his principal in position, and put his sword in his 
hand. 


A MELEE AND A DUEL. 259 

“ Fall to, gentlemen, and fight like men of spirit, as 
you are,” said the marquis. 

“A needless recommendation that,” chimed in the 
Chevalier de Vidalinc ; “they go at it like lions — we shall 
have a superb duel.” 

The Duke of Vallombreuse, who, in his inmost heart, 
could not help despising de Sigognac more than a little, 
and had imagined that he should find in him but a weak 
antagonist, was astonished when he discovered the 
strength of the baron’s sword, and could not deny to 
himself that he wielded a firm and supple blade, which 
baffled his own with the greatest ease — that he was, in 
fine, a “ foeman worthy of his steel.” He became more 
careful and attentive ; then tried several feints, which 
were instantly detected. At the least opening he left, 
the point of de Sigognac’s sword, rapid as lightning in 
its play, darted in upon him, necessitating the exercise of 
all his boasted skill to parry it. He ventured an attack, 
which was so promptly met, and his weapon so cleverly 
struck aside, that he was left exposed to his adversary’s 
thrust, and but for throwing himself back out of reach, by 
a sudden, violent movement, he must have received it full 
in his breast. From that instant all was changed for 
the young duke ; he had believed that he would be able 
to direct the combat according to his own will and pleas- 
ure, but, instead of that, he was forced to make use of 
all his skill and address to defend himself. He had 
believed that after a few passes he could wound de 
Sigognac, wherever he chose, by a thrust which, up to 
that time, he had always found successful ; but, in- 
stead of that, he had hard work to avoid being wounded 
himself. Despite his efforts to remain calm and cool, he 
was rapidly growing angry ; he felt himself becoming 


26 o 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


nervous and feverish, whilst the baron, perfectly at his 
ease, and unmoved, seemed to take a certain pleasure in 
irritating him by the irreproachable excellence of his 
fence. 

“ Shan’t we do something in this way too, while our 
friends are occupied ? ” said the chevalier to the marquis. 

“ It is very cold this morning. Suppose we fight a little 
also, if only to warm ourselves up, and set our blood in 
motion.” 

“ With all my heart,” the marquis replied ; “ we could 
not do better.” 

The chevalier was superior to the Marquis de Bruy- 
eres in the noble art of fencing, and after a few passes 
had sent the latter’s sword flying out of his hand. As no 
enmity existed between them, they stopped there by 
mutual consent, and turned their attention again to de Si- 
gognac and Vallombreuse. The duke, sore pressed by the 
close play of the baron, had fallen back several feet from 
his original position. He was becoming weary, and be- 
ginning to draw panting breaths. From time to time, as 
their swords clashed violently together, bluish sparks 
flew from them ; but the defence was growing percepti- 
bly weaker, and de Sigognac was steadily forcing the 
duke to give way before his attack. When he saw the 
state of affairs, the Chevalier de Vidalinc turned very 
pale, and began to feel really anxious for his friend, who 
was so evidently getting the worst of it. 

“ Why the devil doesn’t he try that wonderful thrust • 
he learned from Girolamo of Naples?” murmured he. 

‘‘ This confounded Gascon cannot possibly know any- 
thing about that.” 

As if inspired by the same thought, the young duke did, 
at that very moment, try to put it into execution ; but de 



* 1*1 


“HIS SWORD GOING CLEAN THROUGH IT 




A MELEE AND A DUEL. 


261 


Sigognac aware of what he was preparing to do, not 
only prevented but anticipated him, and touched and 
wounded his adversary in the arm — his sword going 
clean through it. The pain was so intense that the 
duke’s fingers could no longer grasp his sword, and it fell 
to the ground. The baron, with the utmost courtesy, in- 
stantly desisted, although he was entitled by the rules of 
the code to follow up his blow with another — for the duel 
does not necessarily come to an end with the first blood 
drawn. He turned the point of his sword to the ground, 
put his left hand on his hip, and stood silently awaiting 
his antagonist’s pleasure. But Vallombreuse could not 
hold the sword which his second had picked up and pre- 
sented to him, after a nod of acquiescence from de Si- 
gognac ; and he turned away to signify that he had had 
enough. Whereupon, the marquis and the baron, after 
bowing politely to the others, set forth quietly to walk 
back to the town. 


CHAPTER X. 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 

After the surgeon had bandaged his injured arm, 
and arranged a sling for it, the Duke of Vallom- 
breuse was put carefully into a chair, which had been 
sent for in all haste, to be taken home. His wound 
was not in the least a dangerous one, though it would 
deprive him of the use of his right hand for some 
time to come, for the blade had gone quite through 
the forearm ; but, most fortunately, without severing 
any important tendons or arteries. He suffered a 
great deal of pain from it of course, but still more 
from his wounded pride ; and he felt furiously ajid ur*.- 
reasonably angry with everything a.nd everybody about 
him. It seemed to be somewhat of a relief to him to 
swear savagely at his bearers, and call them all the hard- 
est names he could think of, whenever he felt the slight- 
est jar, as they carried him slowly t;oward home, though 
they were walking as steadily as men could do, and care- 
fully avoiding every inequality in the road. When 
at last he reached his own house, he was not will- 
ing to be put to bed, as the surgeon advised, but lay 
down upon a lounge instead, where he was made as com- 
fortable as was possible by his faithful Picard, who was 
in despair at seeing the young duke in such a condition ; 
astonished as well, for nothing of the kind had ever hap- 
pened before, in all the many duels he had fought ; and 
the admiring valet had shared his master’s belief that he 

262 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 263 

was invincible. The Chevalier de Vidalinc sat m a low 
chair beside his friend, and gave him from time to time 
a spoonful of the tonic prescribed by the surgeon, but 
refrained from breaking the silence into which he had 
fallen. Vallombreuse lay perfectly still for a while ; but 
it was easy to see, in spite of his affected calmness, 
that his blood was boiling with suppressed rage. At last 
he could restrain himself no longer, and burst out vio- 
lently : “ Oh ! Vidalinc, this is too outrageously aggra- 
vating ! to think that that contemptible, lean stork, who 
has flown forth from his ruined chateau so as not to die 
of starvation in it, should have dared to stick his long 
bill into me ! I have encountered, and conquered, the 
best swordsmen in France, and never returned from the 
field before with so much as a scratch, or without leaving 
my adversary stretched lifeless on the ground, or wounded 
and bleeding in the arms of his friends.” 

“ But you must remember that the most favored and 
the bravest of mortals have their unlucky days, Vallom- 
breuse,” answered the chevalier, sententiously, “and 
Dame Fortune does not always smile, even upon her 
prime favorites. Until now you have never had to com- 
plain of her frowns, for you have been her pampered 
darling all your life long.” 

“Isn’t it too disgraceful,” continued Vallombreuse, 
growing more and more heated, “ that this ridiculous 
buffoon — this grotesque country clown — who takes such 
abominable drubbings on the stage, and has never in his 
life known what it was to associate with gentlemen, should 
have managed to get the best of the Duke of Vallom- 
breuse, hitherto by common accord pronounced invinci- 
ble ? He must be a professional prize-fighter, disguised 
as a strolling mountebank.” 


264 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


“There can be no doubt about his real rank,” said 
Vidalinc, “ for the Marquis de Bruyeres guarantees it ; 
but I must confess that his unequalled performance to- 
day filled me with astonishment ; it was simply marvel- 
lous. Neither Girolamo nor Paraguante, those two world- 
renowned swordsmen, could have surpassed it. I watched 
him closely, and I tell you that even they could not 
have withstood him. It took all your remarkable skill — 
which has been so greatly enhanced by the Neapolitan’s 
instructions — to avoid being mortally wounded ; why 
your defeat was a victory in my eyes, in that it was not a 
more overwhelming one.” ^ 

“ I don’t know how I am to wait for this wound to 
heal,” the duke said, after a short pause, “ I am so impa- 
tient to provoke him again, and have the opportunity to 
revenge myself.” 

“ That would be a very hazardous proceeding, and one 
that I should strongly advise you not to attempt,” Vid- 
alinc replied in an earnest tone. “ Your sword-arm will 
scarcely be as strong as before for a long time I fear, and 
that would seriously diminish your chances of success. 
This Baron de Sigognac is a very formidable antagonist, 
and will be still more so, for you, now that he knows 
your tactics ; and besides, the confidence in himself which 
his first victory naturally gives him would be another 
thing in his favor. Honor is satisfied, and the encounter 
was a serious one for you. Let the matter rest here, I 
beseech you ! ” 

Vallombreuse could not help being secretly convinced 
of the justice of these remarks, but was not willing to 
avow it openly, even to his most intimate friend. He 
was a sufficiently accomplished swordsman himself to 
appreciate de Sigognac’s wonderful prowess, and he knew 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


265 


that it far surpassed his own much vaunted skill, though it 
enraged him to have to recognize this humiliating fact. 
He was even obliged to acknowledge, in his inmost 
heart, that he owed his life to the generous forbearance 
of his hated enemy ; who might have taken it just as 
well as not, but had spared him, and been content 
with giving him only a flesh wound, just severe enough 
to put him hors-de-combat, without doing him any seri- 
ous injury. This magnanimous conduct, by which a less 
haughty nature would have been deeply touched, only 
served to irritate the young duke’s pride, and increase his 
resentment. To think that he, the valiant and puissant 
Duke of Vallombreuse, had been conquered, humiliated, 
wounded ! the bare idea made him frantic. Although he 
said nothing further to his companion about his revenge, 
his mind was filled with fierce projects whereby to obtain 
it, and he swore to himself to be even yet with the au- 
thor of his present mortification — if not in one way, then 
in another ; for injuries there be that are far worse than 
mere physical wounds and hurts. 

“ I shall cut a sorry figure enough now in the eyes of 
the fair Isabelle,” said he at last, with a forced laugh, 
“with my arm here run through and rendered useless by 
the sword of her devoted gallant. Cupid, weak and dis- 
abled, never did find much favor with the Graces, you 
know. But oh ! how charming and adorable she seems 
to me, this sweet, disdainful Isabelle ! I am actually al- 
most grateful to her for resisting me so ; for, if she had 
yielded, I should have been tired of her by this time, I 
fancy. Her nature certainly cannot be a base, ordinary 
one, or she would never have refused thus the advances 
of a wealthy and powerful nobl-eman, who is ready to 
lavish upon her everything that heart could desire, and 
12 


266 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


whose own personal attractions are not to be despised ; if 
the universal verdict of the fair sex of all ranks can be 
relied upon. There is a certain respect and esteem 
mingled with my passionate admiration for her, that I 
have never felt before for any woman, and it is very 
sweet to me. But how in the world are we to get rid of 
this confounded young sprig of nobility, her self-consti- 
tuted champion ? May the devil fly away with him ! ” 

It will not be an easy matter,” the chevalier replied, 
and especially now that he is upon his guard. But 
even if you did succeed in getting rid of him, Isabelle’s 
love for him would still be in your way, and you ought 
to know, better than most men, how obstinate a woman 
can be in her devoted attachment to a man.” 

“ Oh ! if I could only kill this miserable baron,” con- 
tinued Vallombreuse, not at all impressed by the cheva- 
lier’s last remark, “ I could soon win the favor of this vir- 
tuous young person, in spite of all her little prudish airs and 
graces. Nothing is so quickly forgotten as a defunct suitor.” 

These were by no means the chevalier’s sentiments, 
but he refrained from pursuing the subject then, wishing 
to soothe, rather than irritate, his suffering friend. 

“You must first get well, as fast as you can,” he said, 
“ and it will be time enough then for us to discuss the 
matter. All this talking wearies you, and does you no 
good. Try to get a little nap now, and not excite your- 
self so. The surgeon will tax me with imprudence, and 
call me a bad nurse, I’m afraid, if I don’t manage to 
keep you more quiet — mentally as well as physically.” 

His patient, yielding with rather an ill grace to this 
sensible advice, sank back wearily upon his pillows, 
closed his eyes, and soon fell asleep— where we will leave 
him, enjoying his much needed repose. 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 267 

Meantime the Marquis de Bruyeres and de Sigognac 
had quietly returned to their hotel, where, like well-bred 
gentlemen, they did not breathe even a hint of what had 
taken place. But walls have ears they say, and eyes as 
well it would appear, for they certainly see as much as 
they ever hear. In the neighborhood of the apparently 
solitary, deserted spot where the duel had taken place, 
more than one inquisitive, hidden observer had closely 
watched the progress of the combat, and had not lost a 
moment after it was over in spreading the news of it ; 
so that by breakfast-time all Poitiers was in a flutter of 
excitement over the intelligence that the Duke of Vallom- 
breuse had been wounded in a duel with an unknown 
adversary, and was exhausting itself in vain conjectures 
as to who the valiant stranger could possibly be. No 
one thought of de Sigognac, who had led the most re- 
tired life imaginable ever since his arrival ; remaining 
quietly at the hotel all day, and showing only his stage 
mask, not his own face, at the theatre in the evening. 

Several gentlemen of his acquaintance sent to inquire 
ceremoniously after the Duke of Vallombreuse, giving 
their messengers instructions to endeavor to get some in- 
formation from his servants about the mysterious duel, 
but they were as taciturn as the mutes of a seraglio, for 
the very excellent and sufficient reason that they knew 
nothing whatever about it. The young duke, by his 
great wealth, his overweening pride, his uncommon good 
looks, and his triumphant success among fair ladies 
everywhere, habitually excited much secret jealousy and 
hatred among his associates, which not one of them dared 
to manifest openly — but they were mightily pleased by his 
present discomfiture. It was the first check he had ever 
experienced, and all those who had been hurt or offendea 


268 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


by his arrogance — and they were legion — now rejoiced in 
his mortification. They could not say enough in praise of 
his successful antagonist, though they had never seen 
him, nor had any idea as to what manner of man he 
might be. The ladies, who nearly all had some cause of 
complaint against the haughty young nobleman, as he was 
wont to boast loudly of his triumphs, and basely betray 
the favors that had been accorded to him in secret, were 
full of enthusiastic and tender admiration for this victo- 
rious champion of a woman’s virtue, who, they felt, had 
unconsciously avenged for them many scornful slights, 
and they would have gladly crowned him with laurel and 
myrtle, and rewarded him with their sweetest smiles and 
most distinguished favor. 

However, as nothing on this terraqueous and sub- 
lunary globe can long remain a secret, it soon transpired 
through Maitre Bilot, who had it direct from Jacques, 
the valet of the Marquis de Bruyeres, who had been pres- 
ent during the momentous interview between his master 
and the Baron de Sigognac, that the duke’s brave antago- 
nist was no other than the redoubtable Captain Fracasse ; 
or rather, a young nobleman in disguise, who for the sake 
of a love affair, had become a member of Herode’s 
troupe of travelling comedians. As to his real name, 
Jacques had unfortunately forgotten it, further than that 
it ended in gnac” as is not uncommon in Gascony, but 
on the point of his rank he was positive. This delight- 
fully romantic and “ ower-true tale ” was received with 
acclamations by the good folk of Poitiers. They were 
fairly overflowing with admiration for and interest in the 
valiant gentleman who wielded such a powerful blade, 
and the devoted lover who had left everything to follow 
his mistress, and when Captain Fracasse appeared upon 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


269 


the stage that evening, the prolonged and enthusiastic 
applause that greeted him, and was renewed over and over 
again before he was allowed to speak a single word, bore 
witness unmistakably to the favor with which he was re- 
garded ; while the ladies rose in their boxes and waved 
their handkerchiefs, even the grandest and most dignified 
among them, and brought the palms of their gloved hands 
daintily together in his honor. It was a real ovation, and 
best of all a spontaneous one. Isabelle also received a 
perfect storm of applause, which alarmed and had nearly 
overcome the retiring young actress, who blushed crim- 
son in her embarrassment, as she made a modest curtsey 
in acknowledgment of the compliment. 

Herode was overjoyed, and his face shone like the full 
moon as he rubbed his hands together and grinned 
broadly in his exuberant delight ; for the receipts were 
immense, and the cash-box was full to bursting. Every- 
body had rushed to the theatre to see and applaud the 
now famous Captain Fracasse — the capital actor and 
high-spirited gentleman — who feared neither cudgels nor 
swords ; and had not shrunk from encountering the 
dreaded Duke of Vallombreuse, the terror of all the 
country round, in mortal combat, as the champion of 
offended beauty. Blazius, however, did not share the 
tyrant’s raptures, but on the contrary foreboded no good 
from all this, for he feared, and not without reason, the 
vindictive character of the Duke of Vallombreuse, and 
was apprehensive that he would find some means of re- 
venging himself for his defeat at de Sigognac’s hands that 
would be detrimental to the troupe. “ Earthen vessels,” 
said he, “ should be very careful how they get in the way 
of metal ones, lest, if they rashly encounter them, they 
be ignominiously smashed in the shock.” But Herode, 


270 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


relying upon the support and countenance of the Baron 
de Sigognac and the Marquis de Bruyeres, laughed at his 
fears, and called him faint-heart, a coward, and a croaker. 

When the comedians returned to their hotel, after the 
play was over, de Sigognac accompanied Isabelle to the 
door of her room, and, contrary to her usual custom, the 
young actress invited him to enter it with her. When 
they found themselves quite alone, and safe from all 
curious eyes, Isabelle turned to de Sigognac, took his 
hand in both of hers, and pressing it warmly said to him 
in a voice trembling with emotion, 

“ Promise me never to run such a fearful risk for my 
sake again, de Sigognac ; promise me ! Swear it, if you 
really do love me as you say.” 

“ That is a thing I cannot do,” the baron replied, 
“ even to please you, sweet Isabelle ! If ever any in- 
solent fellow dares to show a want of proper respect for 
you, I shall surely chastise him for it, as I ought, be he 
what he may — duke, or even prince.” 

“ But remember, de Sigognac, that I am nothing but 
an actress, inevitably exposed to affronts from the men 
. that haunt the coulisses. It is the generally received 
opinion, which alas ! is but too well justified by the usual 
ways of the members of my profession, that an actress is 
no better than she should be ; in fine, not a proper character 
nor worthy of respect. From the moment that a woman 
steps upon the stage she becomes public property, and 
even if she be really pure and virtuous it is universally 
believed that she only affects it for a purpose. These 
things are hard and bitter, but they must be borne, since 
it is impossible to change them. In future trust to me, 
I pray you, to repulse those who would force their un- 
welcome attentions upon me in the green-room, or en- 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


271 


deavor to make their way into my dressing-room. A 
sharp rap over the knuckles with a corset-board from me 
will be quite as efficacious as for you to draw your sword 
in my behalf.” 

“But I am not convinced,” said de Sigognac, with 
a smile ; “ I must still believe, sweet Isabelle, that the 
sword of a chivalrous ally would be your best weapon of 
defence, and I beg you not to deprive me of the precious 
privilege of being your devoted knight and champion.” 

Isabelle was still holding de Sigognac’s hand, and she 
now raised her lovely eyes, full of. mute supplication, to 
meet his adoring gaze, hoping yet to draw from him the 
much desired promise. But the baron was incorrigible ; 
where honor was concerned he was as firm and unyield- 
ing as a Spanish hidalgo, and he would have braved a 
thousand deaths rather than have allowed an affront to 
the lady of his love to pass unpunished ; he wished that 
the same deference and respect should be accorded to 
Isabelle upon the stage, as to a duchess in her drawing- 
room. 

“ Come, de Sigognac, be reasonable,” pleaded the 
young actress, “ and promise me not to expose yourself 
to such danger again for so frivolous a cause. Oh ! 
what anxiety and anguish I endured as I awaited your 
return this morning. I knew that you had gone out to 
fight with that dreadful duke, who is held in such uni- 
versal terror here ; Zerbine told me all about it. Cruel 
that you are to torture my poor heart so ! That is 
always the way with men ; they never stop to think of 
what we poor, loving women must suffer when their pride 
is once aroused ; off they go, as fierce as lions, deaf to 
our sobs and blind to our tears. Do you know, that if 
you had been killed I should have died too ? ” 


272 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


The tears that filled Isabelle’s eyes, and the excessive 
trembling of her voice, showed that she was in earnest, and 
that she had not even yet recovered her usual calmness 
and composure. More deeply touched than words can 
express by her emotion, and the love for himself it bore 
witness to, de Sigognac, encircling her slender form with 
the arm that was free, drew her gently to him, and softly 
kissed her fair forehead, whilst he could feel, as he 
pressed her to his breast, how she was panting and trem- 
bling. He held her thus tenderly embraced for a blissful 
few seconds of silent ecstacy, which a less respectful 
lover would doubtless have presumed upon ; but he 
would have scorned to take advantage of the unreserved 
confidence bestowed upon him in a moment of such agi- 
tation and sorrowful excitement. 

“ Be comforted, dear Isabelle,” said he at last, ten- 
derly. “ I was not killed you see, nor even hurt ; and I 
actually wounded my adversary, though he does pass for 
a tolerably good swordsman hereabouts, I believe.” 

“Yes, I well know what a strong hand is yours, and 
what a brave, noble heart,” Isabelle replied ; “ and I do 
not scruple to acknowledge that I love you for it with all 
my heart ; feeling sure that you will respect my frank 
avowal, and not endeavor to take advantage of it. When 
I first saw you, de Sigognac, dispirited and desolate, in 
that dreary, half .ruined chateau, where your youth was 
passing in sadness and solitude, I felt a tender interest 
in you suddenly spring into being in my heart ; had you 
been happy and prosperous I should have been afraid of 
you, and have shrunk timidly from your notice. When 
we walked together in that neglected garden, where you 
held aside the brambles so carefully for me to pass un- 
scathed, you gathered and presented to me a little wild 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


273 


rose — the only thing you had to give me. As I raised it 
to my lips, before putting it in my bosom, and kissed it 
furtively under pretense of inhaling its fragrance, I could 
not keep back a tear that dropped upon it, and secretly 
and in silence I gave you my heart in exchange for it.” 

As these entrancing words fell upon his ear, de Sigog- 
nac impulsively tried to kiss the sweet lips so tempt- 
ingly near his own, but Isabelle withdrew herself gently 
from his embrace ; not with any show of excessive pru- 
dery, but with a modest timidity that no really gallant 
lover would endeavor to overcome by force. 

“Yes, I love you, de Sigognac,” she continued, in a 
voice that was heavenly sweet, “ and with all my heart, 
but not as other women love ; your glory is my aim, 
not my own pleasure. I am perfectly willing to be 
looked upon as your mistress ; it is the only thing that 
would account satisfactorily to the world at large for 
your presence in this troupe of strolling players. And 
why should I care for slanderous reports, so long as I 
keep my own self-esteem, and know myself to be virtu- 
ous and true ? If there were really a stain upon my 
purity it would kill me ; I could not survive it. It is 
the princely blood in my veins doubtless that gives rise to 
such pride in me ; very ridiculous, perhaps, in an actress, 
but such is my nature.” 

This enchanting avowal, which would not have taught 
anything new to a more conceited or bolder suitor, but 
was a wonderful revelation to de Sigognac, who had 
scarcely dared to hope that his passionate, devoted love 
might some day be returned, filled him with such rap- 
turous, overwhelming delight, that he was almost beside 
himself. A burning flush overspread his usually pale 
face ; he seemed to see flames before his eyes ; there 
12* 


274 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


was a strange ringing in his ears, and his heart throbbed 
so violently that he felt half suffocated. Losing control 
of himself in this moment of ecstasy, so intense that it 
was not unmixed with pain, he suddenly seized Isabelle 
passionately in his arms, strained her trembling form con- 
vulsively to his heaving breast, and covered her face and 
neck with burning kisses. She did not even try to 
struggle against this fierce embrace, but, throwing her 
head back, looked fixedly at him, with eyes full of sor- 
row and reproach. From those lovely eyes, clear and 
pure as an angel’s, great tears welled forth and rolled 
down over her blanched cheeks, and a suppressed sob 
shook her quivering frame as a sudden faintness seemed 
to come over her. The young baron, distracted at the 
sight of her grief, and full of keen self-reproach, put her 
gently down into a low, easy-chair standing near, and 
kneeling before her, took in both his own the hands that 
she abandoned to him, and passionately implored her 
pardon ; pleading that a momentary madness had taken 
possession of him, that he repented of it bitterly, and was 
ready to atone for his offence by the most perfect sub- 
mission to her wishes. 

“You have hurt me sadly, my friend ! ” said Isabelle 
at last, with a deep-drawn sigh. “ I had such perfect 
confidence in your delicacy and respect. The frank, un- 
reserved avowal of my love for you ought to have been 
enough, and have shown you clearly, by its very open- 
ness, that I trusted you entirely. I believed that you 
would understand me and let me love you in my own 
way, without troubling my tenderness for you by vulgar 
transports. Now, you have robbed me of my feeling of 
security. I do not doubt your words, but I shall no 
longer dare to yield to the impulses of my own heart. 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


275 


And yet it was so sweet to me to be with you, to watch 
you, to listen to your dear voice, and to follow the course 
of your thoughts as I saw them written in your eyes. I 
wished to share your troubles and anxieties, de Sigognac, 
leaving your pleasures to others. I said to myself, among 
all these coarse, dissolute, presuming men that hover 
about us, there is one who is different — one who believes 
in purity, and knows how to respect it in the woman he 
honors with his love. I dared to indulge in a sweet 
dream — even I, Isabelle the actress, pursued as I am con- 
stantly by a gallantry that is odious to me — I dared to 
indulge in the too sweet dream of enjoying with you a 
pure, mutual love. I only asked to be your faithful 
companion, to cheer and comfort you in your struggles 
with an adverse fate until you had reached the beginning 
of happiness and prosperity, and then to retire into ob- 
scurity again, when you had plenty of new friends and 
followers, and no longer needed me. You see that I was 
not very exacting.” 

“Isabelle, my adored Isabelle,” cried de Sigognac, 
“ every word that you speak makes me reproach myself 
more and more keenly for my fault, and the pain I have 
given you. Rest assured, rny own darling, that you have 
nothing further to fear from me. I am not worthy to 
kiss the traces of your footprints in the dust ; but yet, I 
pray you, listen to me ! Perhaps you do not fully under- 
stand all my thoughts and intentions, and will forgive me 
when you do. I have nothing but my name, which is 
as pure and spotless as your sweet self, and I offer it to 
you, my own beloved Isabelle, if you will deign to accept 
it.” 

He was still kneeling at her feet, and at these ardently- 
spoken words she leaned towards him, took his up-raised 


2/6 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


face between her hands with a quick’ passionate move- 
ment, and kissed him fervently on the lips ; then she 
sprang to her feet and began, hurriedly and excitedly, 
pacing back and forth in the chamber. 

“You will be my wife, Isabelle?” cried de Sigognac 
in agitated tones, thrilling in every nerve from the sweet 
contact of her pure, lovely mouth — fresh as a flower, ar- 
dent as a flame. 

“ Never, never,” answered Isabelle, with a clear ring 
of rapture in her voice. “ I will show myself worthy of 
such an honor by refusing it. I did mistake you for a 
moment, my dearest friend ; I did mistake you ; forgive 
me. Oh ! how happy you have made me ; what celes- 
tial joy fills my soul ! You do respect and esteem me, 
then, to the utmost ? Ah ! de Sigognac, you would really 
lead me, as your wife, into the hall where all the portraits 
of your honored ancestors would look down upon us ? 
and into the chapel, where your dead mother lies at rest ? 
I could meet fearlessly, my beloved, the searching gaze 
of the dead, from whom nothing is hidden ; the crown of 
purity would not be wanting on my brow.” 

“But what!” exclaimed the young baron, “you say 
that you love me, Isabelle, with all that true, faithful 
heart of yours, yet you will not accept me ! either as 
lover or husband ! ” 

“You have offered me your name, de Sigognac, your 
noble, honored name, and that is enough for me. I give 
it back to you now, after having cherished it for one mo- 
ment in my inmost heart. For one instant I was yo.ur 
wife, and I will never, never be another’s. While my 
lips were on yours I was saying yes to myself, and oh ! 
I did not deserve such happiness. For you, my beloved, 
it would be a sad mistake to burden yourself with a poor 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


277 


little actress like me, who would always be taunted with 
her theatrical career, however pure and honorable it may 
have been. The cold, disdainful mien with which great 
ladies would be sure to regard me would cause you keen 
suffering, and you could not challenge them, you know, my 
own brave champion ! You are the last of a noble race, 
de Sigognac, and it is your duty to build up your fallen 
house. When, by a tender glance, I induced you to 
quit your desolate home and follow me, you doubtless 
dreamed of a love affair of the usual sort, which was but 
natural ; but I, looking into the future, thought of far 
other things. I saw you returning, in rich attire, from 
the court of your gracious sovereign, who had reinstated 
you in your rights, and given you an honorable office, 
suitable to your exalted rank. The chateau had resumed 
its ancient splendor. In fancy I tore the clinging ivy 
from its crumbling walls, put the fallen stones back in 
their places, restored the dilapidated roof and shat- 
tered window-panes, regilded the three storks on your 
escutcheon over the great entrance door, and in the 
grand old portico ; then, having installed you in the ren- 
ovated home of your honored ancestors, I retired into 
obscurity, stifling a sigh as I bade you adieu, though sin- 
cerely rejoicing in your well-merited good fortune.” 

“ And your dream shall be accomplished, my noble 
Isabelle ; I feel sure of it — but not altogether as you relate 
it to me ; such an ending would be too sad and grievous. 
You shall be the first, you, my own darling, with this 
dear hand clasped in mine, as now, to cross the threshold 
of that blessed abode, whence ruin and desolation shall 
have disappeared, and have been replaced by prosperity 
and happiness.” 

“ No, no, de Sigognac, it will be some great, and 


278 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


noble, and beautiful heiress, worthy of you in every way, 
who will accompany you then ; one that you can present 
with just pride to all your friends, and of whom none 
can say, with a malicious smile, I hissed or applauded 
her at such a time and place. ” 

“ It is downright cruelty on your part to show your- 
self so adorable, so worthy - of all love and admiration, 
my sweet Isabelle, and at the same time to deprive me of 
every hope,” said de Sigognac, ruefully; “to give one 
glimpse of heaven and then shut me out again ; nothing 
could be more cruel. But I will not despair ; I shall 
make you yield to me yet.” 

“ Do not try, I beseech you,” continued Isabelle, with 
gentle firmness, “ for I never shall ; I should despise my- 
self if I did. Strive to be content, de Sigognac, with the 
purest, truest, most devoted love that ever filled a wo- 
man’s heart, and do not ask for more. Is it such an un- 
satisfactory thing to you,” she added, with a bright smile, 
“ to be adored by a girl that several men have had the bad 
taste to declare charming } Why, even the Duke of Val- 
lombreuse himself professes that he would be proud of it. ” 

“ But to give yourself to me so absolutely, and to refuse 
yourself to me as absolutely ! to mingle such sweet and 
bitter drops in the same cup — honey and wormwood — 
and present it to my lips ! only you, Isabelle, could be 
capable of such strange contradictions.” 

“ Yes, I am an odd girl,” she replied, “ and therein I 
resemble my poor mother ; but such as I am you must 
put up with me. If you should persist in persecuting me, 
I know well how I could elude and escape you, and 
where I could hide myself from you so that you would 
never be able to find me. But there will be no need of 
that, we will not talk of it ; our compact is made. Let 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 279 

it be as I say, de Sigognac, and let us be happy together 
while we may. It grows late now, and you must go to 
your own room ; will you take with you these verses, of a 
part that does not suit me at all, and remodel them for 
me ? they belong to a piece that we are to play very soon. 
Let me be your faithful little friend, de Sigognac, and 
you shall be my great, and well-beloved poet.” 

Isabelle, as she spoke, drew forth from a bureau a roll 
of manuscript, tied with a rose-colored ribbon, which 
she gave to the baron with a radiant smile. 

“Now kiss me, and go ; ” she said, holding up her 
cheek for his caress. “ You are going to work for me, 
and this is your reward. Good-night, my beloved, good- 
night.” 

It was long after he had regained the quiet of his own 
room ere de Sigognac could compose himself sufficiently 
to set about the light task imposed upon him by Isabelle. 
He was at once enchanted, and cast down ; radiant with 
joy, and filled with sorrow ; in a seventh heaven of 
ecstacy, and in the depths of despair. He laughed and 
he wept alternately, swayed by the most tumultuous 
and contradictory emotions. The intense happiness of 
at last knowing himself beloved by his adored Isabelle 
made him exultant and joyful, whilst the terrible thought 
that she never would be his made his heart sink within 
him. Little by little, however, he grew calmer, as his 
mind dwelt lovingly upon the picture Isabelle had drawn 
of the Chateau de Sigognac restored to its ancient splen- 
dor, and as he sat musing he had a wonderful vision of 
it — so glowing and vivid that it was like reality. He saw 
before him the fa9ade of the chateau, with its large win- 
dows shining in the sunlight, and its many weather- 
cocks, all freshly gilded, glistening against the bright 


28 o 


CAPTA/N FPACASSE. 


blue sky, whilst the columns of smoke rising from every 
chimney, so long cold and unused, told of plenty and 
prosperity within, and his good faithful Pierre, in a rich 
new suit of livery, stood between Miraut and Beelzebub 
at the great entrance door awaiting him. He saw him- 
self, in sumptuous attire, proudly leading his fair Isabelle 
by the hand towards the grand old home of his fore- 
fathers ; his beautiful Isabelle, dressed like a princess, 
wearing ornaments bearing a device which seemed to be 
that of one of the greatest, most illustrious families of 
France, and with a ducal coronet upon her shapely head. 
But with it all she did not appear to be proud or haughty, 
— she was just her own sweet, modest self — and in the 
hand that was free she carried the little wild rose, fresh 
as when it was first plucked, that he had given her, and 
from time to time raised and pressed it tenderly to her 
lips as she inhaled its fragrance ; it seemed more pre- 
cious to her than all the superb jewels that she wore. 
As they approached the chateau a most stately and ma- 
jestic old man, whose breast was covered with orders, 
and whose face seemed not entirely unfamiliar to de 
Sigognac, stepped forth from the portico to meet and 
welcome them. But what greatly surprised him was 
that a remarkably handsome young man, of most proud 
and lofty bearing, accompanied the old prince, who 
closely resembled the Duke of Vallombreuse, and who 
smilingly advanced and offered a cordial salutation and 
welcome to Isabelle and himself. A great crowd of 
tenantry stationed near at hand hailed them with lusty 
cheers, making many demonstrations of hearty joy and 
delight, and his own happiness seemed to be com- 
plete. Suddenly the sound of a horn was heard, and at 
a little distance he saw the beautiful Yolande de Foix, 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


281 


radiant and charming as ever, riding slowly by — ap- 
parently returning from the chase. He followed her 
with his eyes admiringly, but felt no regret as her figure 
was lost to view amid the thick gorse bushes border- 
ing the road down which she was going, and turned 
with ever increasing love and adoration to the sweet 
being at his side. The memory of the fair Yolande, whom 
he had once worshipped in a vague, boyish way, faded 
before the delicious reality of his passionate love for 
Isabelle ; who satisfied so fully every requirement of his 
nature, and had so thoroughly healed the wound made 
by the scorn and ridicule of the other, that it seemed 
to be entirely forgotten then. ' 

It was not easy for de Sigognac to rouse himself after 
this entrancing vision, which had been so startlingly real, 
and fix his attention upon the verses he had promised to 
revise and alter for Isabelle, but when at last he had suc- 
ceeded, he threw himself into his task with enthusiasm, 
and wrote far into the night — inspired by the thought of 
the sweet lips that had called him her poet, and that 
were to pronounce the words he penned ; and he was re- 
warded for his exertions by Isabelle’s sweetest smile, and 
warmest praise and gratitude. 

At the theatre the next evening the crowd was even 
greater than before, and the crush unprecedented. The 
reputation of Captain Fracasse, the valiant conqueror of 
the Duke of Vallombreuse, increased hourly, and began 
to assume a chimerical and fabulous character. If the 
labors of Hercules had been ascribed to him, there would 
have been some credulous ones to believe the tale, and 
he was endowed by his admirers with the prowess of a 
dozen good knights and brave, of the ancient times of 
chivalrous deeds. Some of the young noblemen of the 


282 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


place talked of seeking his acquaintance, and giving a 
grand banquet in his honor ; more than one fair lady 
was desperately in love with him, and had serious thoughts 
of writing a billet-doux to tell him so. In short, he was 
the fashion, and everybody swore by him. As for the 
hero of all this commotion, he was greatly annoyed at 
being thus forcibly dragged forth from the obscurity in 
which he had desired to remain, but it was not possible 
to avoid it, and he could only submit. For a few mo- 
ments he did think of bolting, and not making his 
appearance again upon the stage in Poitiers; but the 
remembrance of the disappointment it would be to the 
worthy tyrant, who was in an ecstasy of delight over the 
riches pouring into the treasury, prevented his carrying 
out this design. And, indeed, as he reminded himself, 
were not these honest comedians, who had rescued him 
from his misery and despair, entitled in all fairness to 
profit, so far as they could, by this unexpected and over- 
whelming favor which he had all unwittingly gained ? So, 
resigning himself as philosophically as he could to his 
fate, he buckled his sword-belt, draped his cloak over his 
shoulder, put on his mask and calmly awaited his call to 
the stage. 

As the receipts were so large, Herode, like a generous 
manager, had doubled the usual number of lights, so that 
the theatre was almost as radiant as if a flood of sunshine 
had been poured into it. The fair portion of the audience, 
hoping to attract the attention of the valiant Captain Fra- 
casse, had arrayed themselves in all their splendor ; not a 
diamond was left in its casket ; they sparkled and flashed, 
every one, on necks and arms more or less white and 
round, and on heads more or less shapely, but all filled with 
an ardent desire to please the hero of the hour ; so the 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


283 


scene was a brilliant one in every way. Only one box 
yet remained unoccupied, the best situated and most con- 
spicuous in the whole house ; every eye was turned upon 
it, and much wonder expressed at the apathy manifested 
by those who had secured it, for all the rest of the spec- 
tators had been long settled in their places. At length, just 
as the curtain was rising, a young lady entered and took 
her seat in the much observed box, accompanied by a 
gentleman of venerable and patriarchal appearance ; ap- 
parently an indulgent old uncle, a slave to the caprices 
of his pretty niece, who had renounced his com- 
fortable after-dinner nap by the fire, in order to obey 
her behest and escort her to the theatre. She, slender 
and erect as Diana, was very richly and elegantly dressed, 
in that peculiar and exquisite shade of delicate sea-green 
which can be worn only by the purest blonds, and which 
seemed to enhance the dazzling whiteness of her uncov- 
ered shoulders, and the rounded, slender neck, diaphanous 
as alabaster, that proudly sustained her small, exquisitely 
poised head. Her hair, clustering in sunny ringlets round 
her brow, was like living gold, it made a glory round her 
head, and the whole audience was enraptured with her 
beauty, though an envious mask concealed so much of it; 
all, indeed, save the snow-white forehead, the round dim- 
pled chin, the ripe red lips, whose tint was rendered yet more 
vivid by the contrast with the black velvet that shaded 
them, the perfect oval of the face, and a dainty little ear, 
pink as a sea-shell — a combination of charms worthy of 
a goddess, and which made every one impatient to see the 
radiant, beauteous whole. They were soon gratified ; for 
the young deity, either incommoded by the heat, or else 
wishing to show a queenly generosity to the gazing throng, 
took off the odious mask, and disclosed to view a pair 


284 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


of brilliant eyes, dark and blue as lapis lazuli, shaded 
with rich golden fringes, a piquant, perfectly cut little 
nose, half Grecian, half aquiline, and cheeks tinged 
with a delicate flush that would have put a rose-leaf to 
shame. In fine, it was Yolande de Foix, more radiantly 
beautiful than ever, who, leaning forward in a negligent, 
graceful pose, looked nonchalantly about the house, not 
in the least discomposed by the many eyes fixed boldly 
and admiringly upon her. A loud burst of applause, 
that greeted the first appearance of the favorite actor, 
drew attention from her for a moment, as de Sigognac 
stalked forward upon the stage in the character of Cap- 
tain Fracasse. As he paused, to wait until his admirers 
would allow him to begin his first tirade, he looked negli- 
gently round the eager audience, and when his eyes fell 
upon Yolande de Foix, sitting tranquil and radiant in her 
box, calmly surveying him with her glorious eyes, he 
suddenly turned dizzy and faint ; the lights appeared first 
to blaze like suns, and then sink into darkness ; the heads 
of the spectators seemed sinking into a dense fog ; a cold 
perspiration started out on him from head to foot ; he 
trembled violently, and felt as if his legs were giving way 
under him ; composure, memory, courage, all seemed to 
have failed him, as utterly as if he had been struck by 
lightning. 

Oh, shame ! oh, rage ! oh, too cruel stroke of fate ! 
for him, a de Sigognac, to be seen by her — the haughty 
beauty that he used to worship from afar — in this gro- 
tesque array, filling so unworthy, so ridiculous a part, for 
the amusement of the gaping multitude ! and he could 
not hide himself, he could not sink into the earth, away 
from her contemptuous, mocking gaze. He felt that he' 
could not, would not bear it, and for a moment was 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENT [IDE. 285 

upon the point of flying ; but there seemed to be leaden 
soles to his shoes, which he could by no means raise 
from the ground. He was powerless to move hand or foot, 
and stood there in a sort of stupefaction ; to the great 
astonishment of Scapin, who, thinking that he must have 
forgotten his part, whispered to him the opening phrases 
of his tirade. The public thought that their favorite 
actor desired another round of applause, and broke out 
afresh, clapping, stamping, crying bravo, making a tre- 
mendous racket, which little respite gave poor de Si- 
gognac time to collect his scattered senses, and, with a 
mighty effort, he broke the spell that had bound him, and 
threw himself into his part with such desperation that his 
acting was more extravagant and telling than ever. It 
fairly brought down the house. The haughty Yolande 
herself could not forbear to smile, and her old uncle, 
thoroughly aroused, laughed heartily, and applauded with 
all his might. No one but Isabelle had the slightest idea 
of the reason of Captain Fracasse’s unwonted fury — but 
she saw at once who was looking on, and knowing how 
sensitive he was, realized the effect it must infallibly pro- 
duce upon him. She furtively watched the proud beauty 
as she modestly played her own part, and thought, not 
without a keen pang through her faithful, loving heart, 
that here would be a worthy mate for the Baron de Si- 
gognac, when he had succeeded in re-establishing the lost 
splendor of his house. As to the poor young nobleman, 
he resolved not to glance once again at Yolande, lest he 
should be seized by a sudden transport of rage and do 
something utterly rash and disgraceful, but kept his eyes 
fixed, whenever he could, upon his sweet, lovely Isabelle. 
The sight of her dear face was balm to his wounded 
spirit — her love, of which he was now so blissfully sure. 


286 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


consoled him for the openly manifested scorn of the other, 
and from her he drew strength to go on bravely with his 
detested part. 

It was over at last — the piece was finished — and when 
de Sigognac tore off his mask, like a man who is suffo- 
cating, his companions were alarmed at his altered looks. 
He was fairly livid, and let himself fall upon a bench 
standing near like a lifeless body. Seeing that he was 
very faint, Blazius hastened to fetch some wine— his sov- 
ereign remedy for every ill — but de Sigognac rejected it, 
and signed that he wanted water instead. 

“ A great mistake,” said the pedant, shaking his head 
disapprovingly, “a sad mistake — water is only fit for 
frogs, and fish, and such-like cold-blooded creatures — it 
does not do for human beings at all. Every water-bot- 
tle should be labelled, ‘ For external use only.’ Why, I 
should die instantly if so much as a drop of the vile stuff 
found its way down my throat. Take my advice. Cap- 
tain Fracasse, and let it alone. Here, have some of this 
good strong wine ; it will set you right in a jiffy.” 

But de Sigognac would not be persuaded, and persisted 
in motioning for water. When it was brought, cool and 
fresh, he eagerly swallowed a large draught of the de- 
spised liquid, and found himself almost immediately re- 
vived by it — his face resuming a more natural hue, and 
the light returning to his eyes. When he was able to sit 
up and look about him again, Herode approached, in his 
turn, and said, You played admirably this evening, and 
with wonderful spirit. Captain Fracasse, but it does not 
do to take too much out of yourself in this way — such 
violent exertions would quickly do for you. The come- 
dian’s art consists in sparing himself as much as possible, 
whilst producing striking effects ; he should be calm amidst 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 287 

all his simulated fury, and cool in his apparently most 
burning rage. Never did actor play this part as superbly 
as you have done to-night — that I am bound to acknowl- 
edge — but this is too dear a price to pay for it.” 

“ Yes, wasn’t I absurd in it ? ” answered the baron bit- 
terly. “ I felt myself supremely ridiculous throughout — 
but especially when my head went through the guitar 
with which Leander was belaboring me.” 

“ You certainly did put on the most comically furious 
airs imaginable,” the tyrant replied, “ and the whole audi- 
ence was convulsed with laughter. Even Mademoiselle 
Yolande de Foix, that very great, and proud, and noble 
lady, condescended to smile. I saw her myself.” 

“It was a great honor for me assuredly,” cried de Si- 
gognac, with flaming cheeks, “ to have been able to divert 
so great a lady.” 

“Pardon me, my lord,” said the tyrant, who perceived 
the painful flush that covered the baron’s face, “ I should 
have remembered that the success which is so prized by 
us poor comedians, actors by profession, cannot but be a 
matter of indifference to one of your lordship’s rank.” 

“You have not offended me, my good Herode,” de Si- 
gognac hastened to reply, holding out his hand to the 
honest tyrant with a genial smile, “ whatever is worth do- 
ing is worth doing well. But I could not help remem- 
bering that I had dreamed of and hoped for very differ- 
ent triumphs from this.” 

Isabelle, who meantime had been dressing for the other 
piece, passed near de Sigognac just then, and gave him 
such an angelic look — so full of tenderness, sympathy, 
and passionate love — that he quite forgot the haughty 
Yolande, and felt really happy again. It was a divine 
balm, that healed his wounded pride — for the moment at 


288 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


least ; but such wounds are all too apt to open and bleed 
again and again. 

The Marquis de Bruyeres was at his post as usual, and 
though very much occupied in applauding Zerbine, yet 
found time to go and pay his respects to Mademoiselle 
Yolande de Foix. He related to her, without mention- 
ing the baron’s name, the affair of the duel between Cap- 
tain Fracasse and the Duke of Vallombreuse — saying 
that he ought to be able to give all the details of that 
famous encounter better than anybody else, since he 
had been present as one of the seconds. 

“ You need not be so mysterious about it,” answered 
Yolande, “ for it is not difficult to divine that your Cap- 
tain Fracasse is no other than the Baron de Sigognac. 
Didn’t I myself see him leaving his old owl-haunted 
towers in company with this little Bohimienne, who plays 
her part of ingenuous young girl with such a precious 
affectation of modesty ? ” she added, with a forced 
laugh. “ And wasn’t he at your chateau with these very 
players ? Judging from his usual stupid, silly air, I would 
not have believed him capable of making such a clever 
mountebank, and such a faithful gallant.” 

As he conversed with Yolande, the marquis was look- 
ing about the house, of which he had a much better 
view than from his own place near the stage, and his at- 
tention was caught and fixed by the masked lady, whom 
he had not seen before, as his back was always turned to 
her box. Although her head and figure were much en- 
veloped and disguised in a profusion of black laces, the 
attitude and general contour of this mysterious beauty 
seemed strangely familiar to him, and there was some- 
thing about her that reminded him forcibly of the mar- 
quise, his own wife. “ Bah ! ” said he to himself, “ how 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 289 

foolish I am ; she must be all safe at the Chateau de 
Bruyeres, where I left her.” But at that very moment 
he caught sight of a diamond ring — a large solitaire, pe- 
culiarly set — sparkling on her finger, which was precisely 
like one that the Marquise de Bruyeres always wore. A 
little troubled by this strange coincidence, he took leave 
abruptly of the fair Yolande and her devoted old uncle, 
and hastened to the masked lady’s box. But, prompt as 
his movements had been, he was too late — the nest was 
empty — the bird had flown. The lady, whoever she 
might be, had vanished, and the suspicious husband was 
left in considerable vexation and perplexity. ‘‘ Could it 
be possible,” he murmured, as his doubts became almost 
certainty, “ that she was sufficiently infatuated to fall in 
love with that miserable Leander, and follow him here ? 
Fortunately I had the rascal thoroughly thrashed, so I 
am even with him, however it may be.” This thought 
restored his ruffled serenity, and he made his way as 
fast as he could to the green-room, to rejoin the sou- 
brette., who had been impatiently expecting him, and did 
not hesitate to rate him soundly for his unwonted delay. 

When all was over, and Leander — who had been feel- 
ing excessively anxious about the sudden disappearance 
of his marquise — was free, he immediately repaired to 
the open square where he had been first bidden to meet 
the carriage sent to fetch him, and where he had found 
it awaiting him nightly ever since. The little page, who 
was there alone, put a letter and a small package into 
his hand, without a word, and then running swiftly away, 
before Leander had time to question him, vanished in the 
darkness. The note, which was signed simply Marie ^ 
was from the marquise , who said that she feared her 
husband’s suspicions had been excited, and that it would 

13 


290 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


no longer be safe for them to meet just then, bade him 
an affectionate farewell until it might be their good for- 
tune to see each other again, expressed much regret at 
this unlucky contretemps^ and begged him to accept 
the gold chain she sent therewith as a little souvenir, 
to remind him of th^ many happy hours they had spent 
together. Leander was at first very much vexed and 
disappointed, but was somewhat reconciled and con- 
soled when he felt the weight of his golden treasure, 
and saw its length and thickness ; and, on the whole, 
was rather glad to come off with such flying colors from 
an adventure that might have brought down a yet" more 
severe punishment than that he had already received 
upon his devoted head. 

When Isabelle regained her own room she found a very 
rich and elegant casket awaiting her there, which had 
been placed conspicuously on the dressing table, where 
it could not fail to meet her eye the moment she entered 
the chamber. A folded paper was lying under one corner 
of the casket, which must have contained some very pre- 
cious gems, for it was a real marvel of beauty itself. The 
paper was not sealed, and bore only these two words, 
evidently written by a weak and trembling hand, “ For 
Isabelle.” A bright flush of indignation overspread her 
sweet face when she perceived it, and without even yield- 
ing to her feminine curiosity so far as to open the richly M 
carved and inlaid casket for a peep at its contents, she S 
called for Maitre Bilot, and ordered him peremptorily to 
take it immediately out of her room, and give it back to ■ 
whomsoever owned it, for she would not suffer it to remain ■ 
where it was another minute. The landlord affected as- ^ 
tonishment, and swore by all he held sacred that he did 
not know who had put the basket there, nor whose it was ; 




A MIDNIGHT AD VENT CITE. 


291 


though it must be confessed that he had his suspicions, 
and felt very sure that they were correct. In truth, the 
obnoxious jewel-case had been secretly placed upon 
Isabelle’s table by old Madame Leonarde, to whom the 
Duke of Vallombreuse had had recourse, in the hope that 
she might be able to aid him, and in the full belief, 
shared by her, that the superb diamonds which the beau- 
tiful casket contained would accomplish all that he 
desired with Isabelle. But his offering only served to 
rouse her indignation, and she spoke very severely to 
Maitre Bilot, commanding him to remove it instantly 
from her sight, and to be careful not to mention this fresh 
affront to Captain Fracasse. The worthy landlord could 
not help feeling enthusiastic admiration for the conduct 
of the young actress, who rejected jewels that would 
have made a duchess envious, and as he retired bowed 
to her as respectfully and profoundly as he would have 
done to a queen. After he had withdrawn and she 
was left alone, Isabelle, feeling agitated and feverish, 
opened her window for a breath of fresh air, and to cool 
her burning cheeks and brow. She saw a bright light 
issuing from a couple of windows in the mansion of the 
Duke of Vallombreuse — doubtless in the room where the 
wounded young nobleman lay — but the garden and the 
little alley beneath her seemed absolutely deserted. In 
a moment, however, she caught a low whisper from the 
latter, not intended for her ears, which said, “ She has 
not gone to bed yet.” She softly leaned out of her window 
— the room within was not lighted, so she could not be 
seen — and peering anxiously into the darkness thought 
she could distinguish two cloaked figures lurking in the 
alley, and further away, near one end of it, a third one, 
apparently on the watch. They seemed to feel that they 


292 


CAPTAIN FRACAS SE. 


were observed, and all three presently slunk away and 
vanished, leaving Isabelle half in doubt as to whether 
they were the creatures of her excited imagination, or 
had been real men prowling there. Tired at last of 
watching, without hearing or seeing anything more, she 
withdrew from the window, closed and secured it softly, 
procured a light, saw that the great, clumsy bolt on her 
door was properly adjusted, and made her preparations 
for bed ; lying down at last and trying to sleep, for she 
was very tired, but haunted by vague fears and doubts 
that made her anxious and uneasy. She did not extin- 
guish her light, but placed it near the bed, and strove to 
reassure herself and reason away her nameless terror ; 
but all in vain. At every little noise — the cracking of 
the furniture or the falling of a cinder in the fire-place, 
she started up in fresh alarm, and could not close her eyes. 
High up in the wall of one side of her room was a small 
round window — a bull’s eye — evidently intended to give 
light and air to some dark inner chamber or closet, which 
looked like a great black eye in the gra)'" wall, keeping an 
unwinking watch upon her, and Isabelle found herself 
again and again glancing up at it with a shudder. It 
was crossed by two strong iron bars, leaving four small 
apertures, so that there could not possibly be any danger 
of intrusion from that quarter, yet she could not avoid 
feeling nervous about it, and at times fancied that she 
could see two gleaming eye-balls in its black depths. 
She lay for a long time perfectly motionless gazing at it, 
like one under a spell, and at last was paralyzed with 
horror when a head actually appeared at one of the four 
openings — a small, dark head, with wild, tangled elf-locks 
hanging about it ; next came a long, thin arm with a claw- 
like hand, then the shoulder followed, and finally the 



‘‘‘THE LADY OF THE NECKLACE! SHE EXCLAIMED. 






11 


I 



c 


f 




I 


s 



I 

t 




< 






« 


t 

•\ * 


. 1 



!> 


/ 


s 





I 


I 







« 




« 


( # 




t 




/ i 






i 


( 


a 






A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 293 

whole body of a slender, emaciated little girl wriggled 
dexterously, though with much difficulty, through the 
narrow aperture, and the child dropped down upon the 
floor as lightly and noislessly as a feather, a snow-flake, or a 
waft of thistle-down. She had been deceived by Isabelle’s 
remaining so long perfectly quiet, and believed her asleep; 
but when she softly approached the bed, to make sure 
that her victim’s slumber had not been disturbed by her 
own advent, an expression of extreme surprise was de- 
picted on her face, as she got a full view of the head lying 
upon the pillow and the eyes fixed upon her in speech- 
less terror. “ The lady of the necklace ! ” she exclaimed 
aloud. “Yes, the lady of the necklace!’’ putting one 
hand, as she spoke, caressingly upon the string of pearl 
beads round her little, thin, brown neck. Isabelle, for her 
part, though half dead with fright, had recognized the little 
girl she had first seen at the Blue Sun inn, and afterwards 
on the road to the Chateau de Bruyeres, in company with 
Agostino, the brigand. She tried to cry out for help, but 
the child put her hand quickly and firmly over her mouth. 

“ Don’t scream,” she said reassuringly, “ nothing shall 
hurt you. Chiquita promised that she would never kill 
nor harm the good, sweet lady, who gave her the pearls 
that she meant to steal.” 

“ But what have you come in herq^ for, my poor child ? ” 
asked Isabelle, gradually recovering her composure, but 
filled with surprise at this strange intrusion. 

“To open the great bolt on your door there that you 
are so careful to close every night,” answered Chiquita, 
in the most matter of fact way. “ They chose me for it 
because I am such a good climber, and as thin and supple 
as a snake ; there are not many holes that I cannot man- 
age to crawl through.” 


294 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


“ And why were yon to open my door, Chiquita ? so 
that thieves could come in and steal what few things I 
have here ? There is nothing of value among them, I 
assure you.” 

“Oh, no!” Chiquita replied disdainfully, “it was to 
let the men in who were to carry you off.” 

“ My God ! I am lost,” cried poor Isabelle, wringing 
her hands in despair. 

“Not at all,” said Chiquita, “and you need not be 
so frightened. I shall just leave the bolt as it is, and they 
would not dare to force the door ; it would make too 
much noise, and they would be caught at it ; they’re not 
so silly as that, never fear.” 

“ But I should have shrieked at the top of my voice, 
and clung to the bedstead with all my might, if they had 
tried to take me,” exclaimed Isabelle excitedly, “ so that 
I would have been heard by the people in the neighbor- 
ing rooms, and I’m sure they would have come to my 
rescue.” 

“ A good gag will stifle any shrieks,” said Chiquita sen- 
tentiously, with a lofty contempt for Isabelle’s ignorance 
that was very amusing, “ and a blanket rolled tightly 
about the body prevents any movements ; that is an easy 
matter you see. They would have carried you off with- 
out the slightest difficulty, for the stable boy was bribed, 
and was to open the back door for them.” 

“ Who has laid this wicked plot ? ” asked the poor, 
frightened, young girl, with a trembling voice, horror- 
stricken at the danger she had escaped. 

“ The great lord who has given them all such heaps of 
money ; oh 1 such quantities of big gold pieces — by the 
handful,” said Chiquita, her great dark eyes glittering 
with a fierce, covetous expression, strange and horrible to 


A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE. 


295 


see in one so young. “ But all the same, you gave me 
the pearls, and he shall not hurt you ; he shall not have 
you if you don’t want to go. I will tell them that you 
were awake, and there was a man in the room, so that I 
could not get in and open the door for them ; they will 
all go away quietly enough ; you need not be afraid. 
Now let me have one good look at you before I go — oh ! 
how sweet and pretty you are — and I love you, yes I do, 
ever so much ; almost as much as Agostino. But what 
is this ? ” cried she suddenly, pouncing upon a knife that 
was lying on the table near the bed. “ Why, you have 
got the very knife I lost ; it was my father’s knife. Well, 
you may keep it — it’s a good one. 

When this viper bites you, make sure 

That you must die, for there’s no cure. 

See, this is the way to open it, and then you use it like 
this : strike from below upwards — the blade goes in better 
that way — and it’s so sharp it will go through anything. 
Carry it in the bosom of your dress, and it is always 
ready ; then if anybody bothers you, out with it, and 
paf ! you have them ripped up in no time,” and the 
strange, eerie little creature accompanied her words with 
appropriate gestures, by way of illustration. This extra- 
ordinary lesson in the art of using a knife, given in the 
dead of night, and under such peculiar circumstances, 
seemed like a nightmare to Isabelle. 

“ Be sure you hold the knife like this, do you see ? 
tightly clasped in your fingers — as long as you have it no 
one can harm you, but you can hurt them. Now, I must 
go — adieu, and don’t forget Chiquita.” 

So saying, the queer little elf pushed a table up to the 
wall under the bull’s eye, mounted it, sprang up and 


2go 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


caught hold of the iron bar with the agility of a monkey, 
swung herself up in some extraordinary fashion, wriggled 
through the small opening and disappeared, chanting in 
a rude measure, “ Chiquita whisks through key-holes, 
and dances on the sharp points of spear-heads and the 
broken glass on garden walls, without ever hurting herself 
one bit — and nobody can catch her.” 

Isabelle, left alone, awaited the break of day with 
trembling impatience, unable to sleep after the fright 
and agitation she had experienced, and momentarily 
dreading some fresh cause of alarm ; but nothing else 
happened to disturb her. When she joined her compan- 
ions at breakfast, they were all struck with her extreme 
pallor, and the distressed expression of her countenance. 
To their anxious questions she replied by giving an ac- 
count of her nocturnal adventure, and de Sigognac, furi- 
ous at this fresh outrage, could scarcely be restrained 
from going at once to demand satisfaction for it from the 
Duke of Vallomb reuse, to whom he did not hesitate to 
attribute this villainous scheme. 

“ I think,” said Blazius, when he could make himself 
heard, “that we had better pack up, and be off as soon 
as we can for Paris ; the air is becoming decidedly un- 
wholesome for us in this place.” 

After a short discussion all the others agreed with him, 
and it was decided that they should take their departure 
from Poitiers the very next day. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE PONT-NEUF. 

It would be too long and tedious to follow our come- 
dians, step by step, on their way up to Paris, the great 
capital. No adventures worthy of being recorded here 
befell them ; as they were in good circumstances finan- 
cially, they could travel rapidly and comfortably, and 
were not again subjected to such hardships and annoy- 
ances as they had endured in the earlier stages of their 
long journey. _At Tours and Orleans they stopped to 
give a few representations, which were eminently suc- 
cessful, and very satisfactory to the troupe as well as the 
public. No attempt being made to molest them in arty 
way, Blazius after a time forgot his fears, which had been 
excited by the vindictive character of the Duke of Val- 
lombreuse, but Isabelle could not banish from her mem- 
ory the wicked plot to abduct her, and many times saw 
again in her dreams Chiquita’s wild, weird face, with the 
long, tangled elf-locks hanging around it, just as it had 
appeared to her that dreadful night at the Armes 
de France, glaring at her with fierce, wolfish eyes. 
I’hen she would start up, sobbing and trembling, in vio- 
lent agitation, and it required the most tender soothing 
from her companion, Zerbine, whose room she had shared 
ever since they quitted Poitiers, to quiet and reassure her. 
The soubrette, thoroughly enamored of Isabelle as of old, 
was devoted to her, and took great delight in watching 
13* 297 


298 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


over and ministering to her ; an own sister could not have 
been kinder or more affectionately considerate. 

The only evidence that de Sigognac gave of the 
anxiety which he secretly felt, was his always insisting 
upon occupying the room nearest Isabelle’s, and he used 
to lie down in his clothes, with his drawn sword on the 
bed beside him, so as to be ready in case of any sudden 
alarm. By day he generally walked on in advance of 
the chariot, taking upon himself the duty of a scout ; re- 
doubling his vigilance wherever there happened to be 
bushes, thickets, high walls, or lurking places of any 
kind, favorable to an ambuscade, near the roadside. If 
he perceived from afar a group of travellers approaching, 
whose appearance seemed to him in the least suspicious, 
he would instantly draw his sword and fall back upon 
the chariot, around which the tyrant, Scapin, Blazius and 
Leander formed an apparently strong guard ; though, of 
the last two mentioned, one was incapacitated for active 
service by age, and the other was as timid as a hare. 
Sometimes, varying his tactics like a good general, who 
thinks of and provides against every emergency, the baron 
would constitute himself a rear guard, and follow the 
chariot at a little distance, keeping watch over the road 
behind them. But all his precautions were needless, for 
no attack was made upon the travellers, or any attempt 
to interfere with them, and they proceeded tranquilly on 
their way, “without let or hindrance.” Although it was 
winter, the season was not a rigorous one, and our come- 
dians, well fortified against the cold by plenty of warm 
clothing and good nourishing food, did not mind their 
exposure to the weather, and found their journey a very 
enjoyable affair. To be sure, the sharp, frosty air brought 
a more brilliant color than usual into the cheeks of the 


1 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


299 


fair members of the troupe, but no one could say that it 
detracted from their charms ; and even when it extended, 
as it did sometimes, to their pretty little noses, it could 
not be found serious fault with, for everything is becom- 
ing to a young and beautiful woman. 

At last they drew near to the capital — following the 
windings of the Seine, whose waters flow past royal 
palaces, and many another edifice of world-wide renown 
— and at four o’clock of a bright winter afternoon came in 
sight of its spires and domes. The smoke rising from its 
forest of chimneys hung over it in a semi-transparent 
cloud, through which the sun shone, round and red, like 
a ball of fire. As they entered the city by the Porte 
Saint Bernard, a glorious spectacle greeted their wonder- 
ing eyes. In front of them Notre Dame stood out in 
bold relief, with its magnificent flying buttresses, its two 
stately towers, massive and majestic, and its slender, 
graceful spire, springing from the lofty roof at the point of 
intersection of the nave and transepts. Many other lesser 
towers and spires rose above churches and chapels that 
were lost amid the densely crowded houses all about 
them, but de Sigognac had eyes only for the grand old 
cathedral, which overwhelmed him with astonishment 
and delight. He would have liked to linger for hours 
and gaze upon that splendid triumph of architecture, 
but he needs must go forward with the rest, however 
reluctantly. The wonderful and unceasing whirl and 
confusion in the narrow, crowded streets, through which 
they made their way slowly, and not without difficulty, 
perplexed and distracted him, accustomed as he had 
been all his life to the vast solitude of the Landes, and 
the deathly stillness that reigned almost unbroken in his 
own desolate old chateau ; it seemed to him as if a mill- 


300 


CAPTAIN- FRACASSE. 


wheel were running round and round in his head, and he 
could feel himself staggering like a drunken man. The 
Pont-Neuf was soon reached, and then de Sigognac 
caught a glimpse of the famous equestrian statue in 
bronze of the great and good king, Henri IV., which 
stands on its lofty pedestal and seems to be keeping 
guard over the splendid bridge, with its ever-rolling stream 
of foot-passengers, horsemen, and vehicles of every kind 
and description, from the superb court carriage to the 
huckster’s hand-cart ; but in a moment it was lost to 
view, as the chariot turned into the then newly opened 
Rue Dauphine. In this street was a fine big hotel, fre- 
quently patronized by ambassadors from foreign lands, 
with numerous retinues ; for it was so vast that it could 
always furnish accommodations for large parties arriving 
unexpectedly. As the prosperous state of their finances 
admitted of their indulging in such luxury, Herode had 
fixed upon this house as their place of abode in Paris ; 
because it would give a certain prestige to his troupe to 
be lodged there, and show conclusively that they were 
not mere needy, vagabond players, gaining a precarious 
livelihood in their wanderings through the provinces, but 
a company of comedians of good standing, whose talents 
brought them in a handsome revenue. 

Upon their arrival at this imposing hostelry, they were 
first shown into an immense kitchen, which presented an 
animated, busy scene — a whole army of cooks bustling 
about the great roaring fire, and around the various tables, 
where all sorts of culinary rites were in active progress ; 
while the mingling of savory odors that pervaded the 
whole place so tickled the olfactory organs of Blazius, 
Herode, and Scapin, the gourmands of the troupe , that 
their mouths expanded into the broadest of grins, as they 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


301 


edged as near as possible to the numerous saucepans, etc., 
from which they issued. In a few moments a servant 
came to conduct them to the rooms that had been pre- 
pared for them, and just as they turned away from the 
blazing fire, round which they had gathered, to follow 
him, a traveller entered and approached it, whose face 
seemed strangely familiar to de Sigognac. He was a tall, 
powerful man, wearing large spurs, which rang against 
the stone floor at every step, and the great spots of mud 
— some of them not yet dry — with which he was be- 
spattered from head to foot, showed that he must have 
been riding far and fast. He was a fierce-looking fellow, 
with an insolent, devil-may-care, arrogant sort of expres- 
sion, and bold, swaggering gait, yet he started at sight of 
the young baron, and plainly shrunk from his eye ; hasten- 
ing on to the fire and bending over it, with his back turned 
to de Sigognac, under pretence of warming his hands. 
In vain did our hero try to recall when and where he had 
seen the man before, but he was positive that he had come 
in contact with him somewhere, and that recently ; and 
he was conscious of a vague feeling of uneasiness with 
regard to him, that he could not account for. However, 
there was nothing for him to do but follow his compan- 
ions, and they all went to their respective chambers, 
there to make themselves presentable for the meal to 
which they were shortly summoned, and which they 
thoroughly enjoyed, as only hungry travellers can. The 
fare was excellent, the wine capital, the dining-room well 
lighted, warm, and comfortable, and all were in high 
spirits ; congratulating each other upon having happily 
reached the end of their long journey at last, and drink- 
ing to their own future success in this great city of Paris. 
They indulged in the flattering hope of producing a sen- 


302 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


sation here as well as at Poitiers, and even dared to dream 
of being commanded to appear before the court, and of 
being rewarded royally for their exertions to please. 
Only de Sigognac was silent and preoccupied, and Isa- 
belle, whose thoughts were all of him, cast anxious glances 
at him, and wished that she could charm away his melan- 
choly. He was seated at the other end of the table, and 
still puzzling over the face that he had seen in the kitchen, 
but he soon looked towards her, and caught her lovely 
eyes fixed upon him, with such an adorable expression of 
chaste love and angelic tenderness in their shadowy 
depths, that all thoughts save of her were at once ban- 
ished from his mind. The warmth of the room had 
flushed her cheeks a little, her eyes shone like stars, and 
she looked wonderfully beautiful ; the young Duke of 
Vallombreuse would have been more madly enamored 
of her than ever if he could have seen her then. As for 
de Sigognac, he gazed at her with unfeigned delight, his 
dark, expressive eyes eloquent of adoring love and deep 
reverence. A new sentiment mingled with his passion 
now — ever since she had opened her heart to him, and 
let him see all its heavenly purity and goodness — which 
elevated, ennobled, and intensified it. He knew now the 
true, lofty beauty of her soul, that it was akin to the 
angels, and but for the keen, ever-increasing grief he suf- 
fered because of her firm refusal to give herself wholly to 
him, his happiness, in possessing her faithful, devoted love, 
would have been too perfect for this life of trials and sorrow. 

When supper was over, de Sigognac accompanied Isa- 
belle to the threshold of her own room, and said ere he 
left her, “ Be sure to fasten your door securely, my sweet 
Isabelle, for there are so many people about in a great 
hotel like this that one cannot be too careful.” 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


303 


“ You need have no fears for me here, my dear baron,” 
she replied ; “ only look at this lock, and you will be con- 
vinced of that. Why it is strong enough for a prison 
door, and the key turns thrice in it. And here is a great 
thick bolt besides — actually as long as my arm. The ' 
window is securely barred, and there is no dreadful bull’s 
eye, or opening of any kind in the wall, to make me afraid. 
Travellers so often have articles of value with them that 
I suppose it is necessary for them to have such protections 
against thieves. Make yourself easy about me, de Sigo- 
gnac ! never was the enchanted princess of a fairy tale, 
shut up in her strong tower guarded by dragons, in greater 
security than am I in this fortress of mine.” 
i “ But sometimes it chances that the magic charms and 
spells, represented by these bolts and bars, are insufficient, 
my beloved Isabelle, and the enemy manages to force his 
way in, despite them all — and the mystic signs, phylac- 
teries, and abracadabras into the bargain.” 

“Yes; but that is when the princess within secretly 
favors his efforts,” said Isabelle, with a mischievous smile, 

“ and in some mysterious way constitutes herself his ac- 
complice ; being tired of her seclusion, perhaps, or else in 
love with the bold intruder — neither of which is my case 
you know, de Sigognac ! Surely if I’m not afraid — I, 
who am more timid than the trembling doe when she 
hears the dread sound of the hunter’s horn and the bay- 
ing of the hounds — you should not fear — you, who are 
brave as Alexander the Great himself. Sleep in peace 
to-night, my friend, I pray you, and sleep soundly — not 
with one eye open, as you have done so often of late for 
my sake ; and now, good-night ! ” 

She held out to him a pretty little hand, white and 
soft enough to have belonged to a veritable princess. 


304 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


which he kissed as reverently as if it had been a queen’s ; 
then waited to hear her turn the big, clumsy, iron key 
three times in the lock— no easy task for her delicate 
fingers — and push home the heavy bolt. Breathing a 
fervent blessing upon her, he turned away reluctantly to- 
wards his own door. As he paused an instant before it 
he saw a shadow moving, turned round quickly, and 
caught sight of the very man he had been thinking of, 
and puzzling over, so much that evening — whose ap-. 
proach he had not heard at all — passing stealthily along 
the corridor, presumably on his way to his own room. 
Not an extraordinary circumstance, that ; but the baron’s 
suspicions were instantly aroused, and under pretext of 
trying to introduce his key into the lock, he furtively 
watched him the whole length of the passage, until a turn 
in it hid him from view, as he gained an unfrequented 
part of the house ; a moment after, the sound of a door 
being softly opened and closed announced that he had 
probably reached his own chamber, and then all was still 
again. 

“Now what does this mean ? ’’ said Sigognac to him- 
self, and haunted by a vague feeling of anxiety and un- 
easiness, he could not even bring himself to lie down 
upon his bed and rest his weary frame ; so, after pacing 
restlessly about the room for a while, he concluded to oc- 
cupy himself in writing a letter to his good old Pierre ; 
he had promised to apprise him of his arrival in Paris. 
He was careful that the handwriting should be very large, 
clear, and distinct, for the faithful old servant was not 
much of a scholar, and addressed him as follows : 

“ My good Pierre : — Here I am at last, actually in 
Paris, the great capital, where, according to general belief. 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


305 


I am to fall in with some sort of good fortune or other, 
that will enable me to re-establish the ancient prosperity 
of my house — though in truth I cannot see where I am 
to look for it. However, some happy chance may bring 
me into relations with the court, and if I could only get 
to speak to the king — the great dispenser of all favors — 
the important and famous services rendered by my an- 
cestors to his royal predecessors would surely incline him 
to listen to me with indulgence and interest. His gra- 
cious majesty could not, it seems to me, suffer a noble 
family, that had devoted all their possessions to the ser- 
vice of king and country, in many wars, to die out so 
miserably, if once he knew of it. Meantime, for want of 
other employment, I have taken to acting, and have made 
a little money thereby — part of which I shall send to you, 
as soon as I can find a good opportunity. It would have 
been better perhaps if I had enlisted as a soldier ; but 
I could not give up my liberty, and however poverty- 
stricken a man may be, his pride revolts at the idea of 
putting himself under the orders of those whom his noble 
ancestors used to command. The only adventure worth 
relating that has befallen me since I left you was a duel 
that I fought at Poitiers, with a certain young duke, who 
is held to be invincible ; but, thanks to your good in- 
structions, I was able to get the better of him easily. I 
ran him through the right arm, and could just as well 
have run him through the body, and left him dead upon 
the field, for his defence was weak and insufficient — by 
no means equal to his attack, which was daring and brill- 
iant, though very reckless — and several times he was 
entirely at my mercy, as he grew heated and angry. He 
has not been so thoroughly trained to preserve his sang- 
froid, whatever may happen, as I, and I now appreciate. 


3o6 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


for the first time, your wonderful patience and perse- \ 
verance in making me a master of the noble art of fenc- i 
ing, and how valuable my proficiency in it will be to me. \ 
Your scholar does you honor, my brave Pierre, and I ^ 
won great praise and applause for my really too easy vie- 1 
tory. In spite of the constant novelty and excitement 
of my new way of life, my thoughts often return to dwell J 
upon my poor old chateau, crumbling gradually into ruin s 
over the tombs of my ancestors. From afar it does not ; 
seem so desolate and forlorn, and there are times when I 
fancy myself there once more, gazing up at the venerable ^ 
family portraits, wandering through the deserted rooms, 
and I find a sort of melancholy pleasure in it. How I 
wish that I could look into your honest, sunburnt face, 
lighted up with the glad smile that always greeted me — 
and I am not ashamed to confess that I long to hear \ 
Beelzebub’s contented purring, Miraut’s joyful bark, and r 
the loud whinnying of my poor old Bayard, who never 
failed to recognize my step. Are they all still alive — the 
good, faithful, affectionate creatures — and do they seem ^ 
to remember me ? Have you been able to keep yourself > 
and them from starvation thus far ? Try to hold out un- 
til my return, my good Pierre, so as to share my fate — 
be it bright or dark, happy or sad — that we may finish ! 
our days together in the place where we have suffered so I 
much, yet which is so dear to us all. If I am to be the | 
last of the de Sigognacs, I can only say, the will of God 
be done. There is still a vacant place left for me in the' i 
vault where my forefathers lie. ' I 

“Baron de Sigognac.” t 

The baron sealed this letter with the ring bearing his | 
family arms, which was the only jewel remaining in his { 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


307 


possession ; directed it, and put it into his portfolio, to 
wait until he should find an opportunity to forward it to 
Gascony. Although by this time it was very late, he 
could still hear the vague roar of the great city, which, 
like the sound of the ocean, never entirely ceases, and 
was so strange and novel to him, in contrast with 
the profound silence of the country that he had been 
accustomed to all his life long. As he sat listening to it, 
he thought he heard cautious footsteps in the corridor, 
and extinguishing his light, softly opened his door — just a 
very little way, scarcely more than a crack — and caught a 
glimpse of a man, enveloped in a large cloak, stealing 
along slowly in the direction the other one had taken. He 
listened breathlessly until he heard him reach, and quietly 
enter, apparently the same door. A few minutes after, 
while he was still on the lookout, another one came 
creeping stealthily by, making futile efforts to stifle the 
noise of his creaking boots. His suspicions now thor- 
oughly aroused, de Sigognac continued his watch, and 
in about half an hour came yet another — a fierce, vil- 
lainous looking fellow, and fully armed, as every one of 
his predecessors had been also. This strange proceeding 
seemed very extraordinary and menacing to the baron, 
and the number of the men — four — brought to his mind 
the night attack upon him in the streets of Poitiers, after 
his quarrel with the Duke of Vallomb reuse. This recol- 
lection was like a ray of light, and it instantly flashed 
upon him that the man he had seen in the kitchen was no 
other than one of those precious rascals, who had been 
routed so ignominiously — and these, without doubt, were 
his comrades. But how came they there ? in the very 
house with him — not by chance surely. They must have 
followed him up to Paris, stage by stage, in disguise, or 


3o8 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


else keeping studiously out of his sight. Evidently the 
young duke’s animosity was still active, as well as his 
passion, and he had not renounced his designs upon either 
Isabelle or himself. Our hero was very brave by nature, 
and did not feel the least anxiety about his own safety — 
trusting to his good sword to defend him against his en- 
emies — but he was very uneasy in regard to his sweet 
Isabelle, and dreaded inexpressibly what might be at- 
tempted to gain possession of her. Not knowing which 
one of them the four desperadoes had in view now, he de- 
termined not to relax his vigilance an instant, and to 
take such precautions as he felt pretty sure would cir- 
cumvent their plans, whatever they might be. He lighted 
all the candles there were in his room — a goodly number — 
and opened his door, so that they threw a flood of light 
on that of Isabelle’s chamber, which was exactly oppo- 
site his own. Next he drew his sword, laid it, with 
his dagger, on a table he had drawn out in front of the 
door, and then sat down beside it, facing the corridor, to 
watch. He waited some time without hearing or seeing 
anything. Two o’clock had rung out from a neighboring 
church tower when a slight rustling caught his listening 
ear, and presently one of the four rascals — the very man 
he had first seen — emerged from the shadow into the 
bright light streaming out into the passage from his open 
door. The baron had sprung to his feet at the first 
sound, and stood erect on the threshold, sword in hand, 
with such a lofty, heroic and triumphant air, that Me-' 
rindol — for it was he — passed quickly by, without offering 
to molest him, with a most deprecating, crest-fallen ex- 
pression; a laughable contrast to his habitual fierce inso- 
lence. His three doughty comrades followed in quick 
succession — but not one of them dared to attack de 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


309 


Sigognac, and they slunk out of sight as rapidly as pos- 
sible. He saluted each one with a mocking gesture as 
he passed, and stood tranquilly watching them as long 
as he could see them. In a few minutes he had the sat- 
isfactibn of hearing the stamping of horses’ feet in the 
court-yard below, then the opening of the outer door 
to let them pass out into the street, and finally a great 
clattering of hoofs as they galloped off down the Rue 
Dauphine. 

At breakfast the next morning the tyrant said to de 
Sigognac, “ Captain, doesn’t your curiosity prompt you to 
go out and look about you a little in this great city — one 
of the finest in the world, and of such high renown in 
history ? If it is agreeable to you I will be your guide 
and pilot, for I have been familiar from my youth 
up with the rocks and reefs, the straits and shallows, the 
scyllas and charybdises of this seething ocean, which are 
often so dangerous — sometimes so fatal — to strangers, 
and more especially to inexperienced country people. I 
will be your Palinurus — but I promise you that I shall 
not allow myself to be caught napping, and so fall over- 
board, like him that Virgil tells us about. We are admi- 
rably located here for sight-seeing ; the Pont-Neuf, which 
is close at hand, you know, is to Paris what the Sacra Via 
was to ancient Rome — the great resort and rallying place 
of high and low, great and small, noblemen, gentlemen, 
bourgeois, working men, rogues and vagabonds. Men of 
every rank and profession under the sun are to be found 
gathered together at this general rendezvous.” 

‘‘Your kind proposition pleases me greatly, my good 
Herode,” de Sigognac replied, “ and I accept it with 
thanks ; but be sure to tell Scapin that he must remain 
here, and keep a sharp watch over all who come and 


310 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


go ; and, above all, that he must not let any one gain ac* 
cess to 'Isabelle. The Duke of Vallombreuse has not 
given up his designs against her and me, — I feel very 
anxious about her safety,” and therewith he recounted 
the occurrences of the preceding night. 

“ I don’t believe they would dare to attempt anything in 
broad daylight,” said the tyrant ; “ still it is best to err 
on the safe side, and we will leave Scapin, Blazius and 
Leander to keep guard over Isabelle while we are out. 
And, by the way, I will take my sword with fne, too, so 
that I can be of some assistance in case they should find 
an opportunity to fall upon you in the streets.” 

After having made every arrangement for Isabelle’s 
safety, de Sigognac and his companion sallied forth into 
the Rue Dauphine, and turned towards the Pont-Neuf. 
It was quickly reached, and when they had taken a few 
steps upon it a magnificent view suddenly burst upon 
them, which held the young baron enthralled. In the 
immediate foreground, on the bridge itself, which was not 
encumbered with a double row of houses, like the Pont 
au Change and the Pont Saint Michel, was the fine 
equestrian statue of that great and good king, Henri IV., 
rivalling in its calm majesty the famous one of Marcus 
Aurelius, on the Capitoline Hill at Rome. A high rail- 
ing, richly gilded, protected its pedestal from injury by 
mischievous street arabs, and the deep, strong tints of the 
bronze horse and rider stood out vigorously against the 
appropriate background formed by the distant hill-sides 
beyond the Pont Rouge. On the left bank of the river 
the spire of the venerable old church of Saint Germain 
des Pres pointed upwards from amidst the houses that 
completely hemmed it in, and the lofty roof of the un- 
finished H6tel de Nevers towered conspicuously above 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


31 


all its surroundings. A little farther on was the only- 
tower still standing of the famous, and infamous, Hotel de 
Nesle, its base bathed by the river, and though it was in 
a ruinous condition it still lifted itself up proudly above 
the adjacent buildings. Beyond it lay the marshy Gre- 
nouillere, and in the blue, hazy distance could be dis- 
tinguished the three crosses on the heights of Calvary, or 
Mont-Valerien. The palace of the Louvre occupied the 
other bank right royally, lighted up by the brilliant win- 
ter sunshine, which brought out finely all the marvellous 
details of its rich and elaborate ornamentation. The long 
gallery connecting it with the Tuileries, which enabled 
the monarch to pass freely from his city palace to his 
country house, especially challenged their admiration ; 
with its magnificent sculptures, its historical bas-reliefs 
and ornamented cornices, its fretted stonework, fine 
columns and pilasters, it rivalled the renowned triumphs 
of the best Greek and Roman architects. Beyond the 
gardens of the Tuileries, where the city ended, stood the 
Porte de la Conference, and along the river bank, outside 
of it, were the trees of Cours-la-Reine, the favorite prom- 
enade of the fashionable world, which was thronged of an 
afternoon with gay and luxurious equipages. The two 
banks, which we have thus hastily sketched, framed in 
the most animated scene imaginable ; the river being 
covered with boats of all sorts and descriptions, coming 
and going, crossing and recrossing, whilst at the quay, 
beside the Louvre, lay the royal barges, rich with carving 
and gilding, and gay with bright-colored awnings, and 
near at hand rose the historic towers of Saint Germain 
I’Auxerrois. 

After gazing silently for a long time at this splendid 
view, de Sigognac turned away reluctantly at his com- 


312 


CAPTAm FRACASSE. 


panion’s instance, and joined the little crowd already 
gathered round the “Samaritan,” waiting to see the 
bronze figure surmounting the odd* little hydraulic edifice 
strike the hour with his hammer on the bell of the 
clock. Meanwhile they examined the gilt bronze statue of ;; 
Christ, standing beside the Samaritan, who was leaning i' 
on the kerb of the well, the astronomic dial with its i 

zodiac, the grotesque stone mask pouring out the water • 

drawn up from the river below, the stout figure of Her- 
cules supporting the whole thing, and the hollow statue, • 
perched on the topmost pinnacle, that served as a weath- : 
ercock, like the Fortune on the Dogana at Venice and 
the Giralda at Seville. As the hands on the clock-face 
at last pointed to ten and twelve respectively, the little 
chime of bells struck up a merry tune, while the bronze 
man with the hammer raised his pondrous arm and delib- 
erately struck ten mighty blows, to the great delight of 
the spectators. This curious and ingenious piece of 
mechanism, which had been cunningly devised by one 
Lintlaer, a Fleming, highly amused and interested de 
Sigognac, to whom everything of the kind was absolutely , 
new and surprising. i 

“ Now,” said H^rode, “ we will glance at the view from 
the other side of the bridge, though it is not so magnifi- { 

cent as the one you have already seen, and is very much i 

shut in by the buildings on the Pont au Change yonder. ^ 

However, there is the tower of Saint Jacques, the spire ^ 

of Saint Mederic, and others too numerous to mention ; i‘ 

and that is the Sainte Chapelle — a marvel of beauty, so | 

celebrated, you know, for its treasures and relics. All the S 

houses in that direction are new and handsome, as you J 

see ; when I was a boy I used to play at hop-scotch 1 

where they now stand. Thanks to the munificence of ft 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


313 


our kings, Paris is being constantly improved and beauti- 
fied, to the great admiration and delight of everybody ; 
more especially of foreigners, who take home wondrous 
tales of its splendor.” 

“ But what astonishes me,” said de Sigognac, ‘‘ more 
even than the grandeur and sumptuousness of the build- 
ings, both public and private, is the infinite number of 
people swarming everywhere — in the streets and open 
squares, and on the bridges — like ants when one has 
broken into an ant-hill ; they are all rushing distractedly 
about, up and down, back and forth, as if life and death 
depended upon their speed. How strange it is to think 
that every individual in this immense crowd must be 
lodged and fed — and what a prodigious amount of food 
and wine it must take to satisfy them all.” 

And indeed it was not surprising that the great num- 
bers of people, moving in every direction, should strike 
one unaccustomed to the crowded thoroughfares of large 
cities as extraordinary. On the Pont-Neuf an unceas- 
ing stream of vehicles rolled in each direction — fine car- 
riages, richly decorated and gilded, drawn by two or 
four prancing horses, with lackeys in brilliant liveries 
clinging on behind, and stately coachmen on the box ; 
less pretentious carriages with more quiet steeds and 
fewer servants ; heavy carts laden with stone, wood, or 
wine-barrels, whose drivers swore loudly at the deten- 
tions they were frequently obliged to submit to, and 
which were unavoidable in such a crush of vehicles ; 
and among them all, gentlemen on horseback, threading 
their way carefully in and out among the press of carts 
and carriages, and endeavoring to avoid coming in con- 
tact with their muddy wheels — not always successfully ; 
whilst here and there a sedan chair crept slowly along, 

14 


314 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


keeping upon the edge of the stream, so as not to be 
crushed ; and the narrow, raised walk on either side was 
thronged with pedestrians. Presently a drove of cattle 
made its appearance on the bridge, and then the uproar 
and confusion became terrible indeed ; horses, as well as 
foot-passengers, were frightened, and tried to run away 
from danger, requiring all the strength of their drivers to 
restrain them. Soon after that excitement was over a 
detachment of soldiers came marching along, with drums 
beating and colors flying, and everybody had to make 
way for the valiant sons of Mars, no matter at what in- 
convenience to themselves. And so it went on, one thing 
after another — a constant scene of bustle, hurry, and 
commotion. As de Sigognac and the tyrant strolled 
slowly along they were beset by beggars, more or less im- 
pudent and pertinacious, and by all sorts of odd charac- 
ters, plying various extraordinary vocations for the amuse- 
ment of the passers-by, for which they seemed to be lib- 
erally enough remunerated. Here was an improvisa- 
tore, singing, not unmelodiously, his rather clever verses ; 
there a blind man, led by a stout, jolly-looking old wom- 
an, who recited his dolorous history in a whining voice, 
and appealed to the charity of the ever-changing multi- 
tude ; further on a charlatan, loudly claiming to be able 
to cure “ all the ills that flesh is heir to ” by his magical 
compound — and finding plenty of dupes ; and next to him 
a man with a monkey, whose funny tricks caused much 
merriment. Suddenly a great tumult arose near the 
other end of the bridge, and in a moment a compact 
crowd had gathered around four men, who, with loud 
cries and imprecations, were fighting with swords — ap- 
parently with great fury, though in reality it was only a 
mock combat, probably intended to give a good chance to 


THE FONT-NEUF. 


315 


the thieves and pickpockets in the throng, with whom 
they were in league ; such tactics being very common, 
as well as successful. By Herode’s advice, de Sigognac 
refrained from mingling with the crowd immediately 
around the combatants, so he could not get a very good 
view of them ; but he was almost sure that they were the 
very men he had met first in the streets of Poitiers, to 
their great discomfiture, and had seen again the previous 
night at the hotel in the Rue Dauphine, where they cer- 
tainly had gained no advantage to make up for their 
former defeat. He communicated his suspicions to the 
tyrant, but the rascals had already slipped away, and it 
would have been as useless to attempt to find them in 
the throng as to look for a needle in a haystack. 

“It certainly is possible,” said Herode, thoughtfully, 
“ that this quarrel was gotten up with a view to involving 
you in it, by some means or other, for we are undoubt- 
edly followed and watched by the emissaries of the Duke 
of Vallombreuse. One of the scoundrels might have 
made believe that you were in his way, or that you had 
struck him, and falling upon you suddenly, before you 
had time to draw your sword, have given you a thrust 
that would have done for you ; and if he failed to wound 
you mortally, the others could have pretended to come 
to their comrade’s aid, and have completed the job 
— nothing would be easier. Then they would have 
separated, and slipped away through the crowd, before 
any one could interfere with them, or else have stood 
their ground, and declared unanimously that they had 
been obliged to attack you in self-defense. It is next to 
impossible in such cases to prove that the act was pre- 
meditated, and there is no redress for the unhappy vic- 
tim of such a conspiracy.” 


3i6 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


“ But I am loath to believe,” said the brave, generous 
young baron, “ that any gentleman could be capable of 
such an utterly base and unworthy act as this — what, send 
a set of hired ruffians to foully assassinate his rival ! If 
he is not satisfied with the result of our first encounter, 
I am willing and ready to cross swords with him again 
and again, until one or the other of us is slain. That is 
the way that such matters are arranged among men of 
honor, my good Herode ! ” 

“Doubtless,” replied the tyrant, dryly, “but the duke 
well knows — despite his cursed pride — that the result of 
another meeting with you could not but be disastrous to 
himself. He has tried the strength of your blade, and 
learned by bitter experience that its point is sharp. You 
may be sure that he hates you like the very devil, and 
will not scruple to make use of any means whatever to 
revenge himself for his defeat at your hands.” 

“ Well, if he does not care to try my sword again, we 
could fight on horseback with pistols. He could not ac- 
cuse me of having any advantage of him there.” 

Talking thus the two had reached the Quai de TEcole, 
and there a carriage just missed running over de Sigog- 
nac, though he did his best to get out of its way. As it 
was, only his extremely slender figure saved him from 
being crushed between it and the wall, so close did it 
come to him — notwithstanding the fact that there was 
plenty of room on the other side, and that the coachman 
could easily have avoided the foot passenger he actually 
seemed to pursue. The windows of the carriage were 
all closed, and the curtains drawn down, so that it was 
impossible to tell whether it had any inmates or not — but 
if de Sigognac could have peeped within he would have 
seen, reclining languidly upon the luxurious cushions, a 




THE PONT-NEUF. 


317 


handsome young nobleman, richly dressed, whose right 
arm was supported by a black silk scarf, arranged as a 
sling. In spite of the warm red glow from the crimson 
silk curtains, he was very pale, and, though so remarka- 
bly handsome, his face wore such an expression of hatred 
and cruelty, that he would have inspired dislike, rather 
than admiration — as he sat there with a fierce frown con- 
tracting his brow, and savagely gnawing his under lip 
with his gleaming white teeth. In fine, the occupant of 
the carriage that had so nearly run over the Baron de 
Sigognac was no other than the young Duke of Vallom- 
breuse. 

Another failure ! ” said he to himself, with an oath, 
as he rolled along up the broad quay past the Tuileries. 
“ And yet I promised that stupid rascal of a coachman 
of mine twenty-five Louis if he could be adroit enough 
to run afoul of that confounded de Sigognac — who is the 
bane of my life — and drive over him, as if by accident. 
Decidedly the star of my destiny is not in the ascendant 
— this miserable little rustic lordling gets the better of 
me in everything. Isabelle, sweet Isabelle, adores him^ 
and detests me — he has beaten my lackeys, and dared to 
wound me. But there shall be an end of this sort of 
thing, and that speedily — even though he be invulnera- 
ble, and bear a charmed life, he mu^t and shall be put 
out of my way — I swear it ! though I should be forced 
to risk my name and my title to compass it.” 

“ Humph ! ” said Herode, drawing a long breath ; 
“ why those brutes must be of the same breed as the 
famous horses of that Diomedes, King of Thrace, we 
read of, that pursued men to tear them asunder, and 
fed upon their flesh. But at least you are not hurt, my 
lord, I trust ! That coachman saw you perfectly well, 


318 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


and I would be willing to wager all I possess in the world 
that he purposely tried to run over you — he deliberately 
turned his horses towards you — I am sure of it, for I saw 
the whole thing. Did you observe whether there was a 
coat of arms on the panel ? As you are a nobleman 
yourself I suppose you must be familiar with the devices 
of the leading families in France.” 

“ Yes, I am of course,” answered de Sigognac, “ but I 
was too much occupied in getting out of the way of the 
swift-rolling carriage to notice whether there was any- 
thing of that kind on it or not.” 

“ That’s a pity,” rejoined the tyrant regretfully, “ for 
if we only knew that, we should have a clue, that might 
lead to our discovering the truth about this most sus- 
picious affair. It is only too evident that some one is 
trying to put you out of the way, quibuscumque viis^ as 
the pedant would say. Although we unfortunately have 
no proof of it, I am very much inclined to think that this 
same carriage belongs to his lordship, the Duke of Val- 
lombreuse, who wished to indulge himself in the pleas- 
ure of driving over the body of his enemy in his chariot, 
m true classical and imperial style.” 

“ What extraordinary idea have you got into your 
head now. Sir Herode ? ” said de Sigognac, rather indig- 
nantly. “ Come, that would be too infamous and villain- 
ous a proceeding for any gentleman to be guilty of, and you 
must remember that after all the Duke of Vallombreuse is 
one, and that he belongs to a very high and noble family. 
Besides, did not we leave him in Poitiers, laid up with his 
wound ? How then could he possibly be in Paris, when 
we have only just arrived here ourselves } ” 

“ But didn’t we stop several days at Tours ? and again 
at Orleans ? And even if his wound were not entirely 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


319 


healed he could easily travel in his luxurious carriage, by 
easy stages, from Poitiers to Paris. His hurt was not of 
a dangerous character, you know, and he is young and 
vigorous. You must be on your guard, my dear cap- 
tain, unceasingly ; never relax your vigilance for one 
moment, for I tell you there are those about who seek 
your life. You once out of the way, Isabelle would be in 
the duke’s power — for what could we, poor players, do 
against such a great and powerful nobleman ? Even if 
Vallombreuse himself be not in Paris — though I am al- 
most positive that he is — his emissaries are, as you know, 
and but for your own courage and watchfulness you would 
have been assassinated in your bed by them last night.” 

This de Sigognac could not dispute, and he only nod- 
ded in token of assent, as he grasped the hilt of his sword, 
so as to be ready to draw it at the slightest cause for sus- 
picion or alarm. Meantime they had walked on as far as 
the Porte de la Conference, and now saw ahead of them 
a great cloud of dust, and through it the glitter of bayo- 
nets. They stepped aside to let the cavalcade pass, and 
saw that the soldiers preceded the carriage of the king, 
who was returning from Saint Germain to the Louvre. 
The curtains of the royal vehicle were raised, and the 
glasses let down, so that the people could distinctly see 
their sovereign, Louis XIII., who, pale as a ghost and 
dressed all in black, sat as motionless as an effigy in wax. 
Long, dark brown hair fell about his mournful, ghastly 
countenance, upon which was depicted the same terrible 
ennui that drove Philip II. of Spain, to seclude him- 
self so much, during the later years of his life, in the 
silence and solitude of the dreary Escorial. His eyes 
were fixed on vacancy, and seemed utterly lifeless — no 
desire, no thought, no will lent them light or expression. 


320 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


A profound disgust for and weariness of everything In 
this life had relaxed his lower lip, which fell sullenly, in 
a morose, pouting way. His hands, excessively thin and 
white, lay listlessly upon his knees, like those of certain 
Egyptian idols. And yet, for all, there was a truly royal 
majesty about this mournful figure, which personified 
France, and in whose veins flowed sluggishly the gener- 
ous blood of Henri IV. 

The young baron had always thought of the king as a 
sort of supernatural being, exalted above all other men. 
Glorious and majestic in his person, and resplendent in 
sumptuous raiment, enriched with gold and precious 
stones ; and now he saw only this sad, motionless figure, 
clad in dismal black, and apparently unconscious of his 
surroundings, sunk in a profound revery that none would 
dare to intrude upon. He had dreamed of a gracious, 
smiling sovereign, showering good gifts upon his loyal 
subjects, and here was an apathetic, inanimate being, who 
seemed capable of no thought for any one but himself. 
He was sadly disappointed, shocked, amazed ; and he 
felt, with a sinking heart, how hopeless was his own case. 
For even should he be able to approach this mournful, 
listless monarch, what sympathy could be expected from 
him ? The future looked darker than ever now to this 
brave young heart. Absorbed in these sorrowful reflec- 
tions he walked silently along beside his companion, who 
respected his taciturn mood, and did not intrude upon it, 
until, as the hour of noon approached, he suggested that 
they should turn their steps homeward, so as to be in 
time for the mid-day meal. When they reached the ho- 
tel they were relieved to find that nothing particular had 
happened during their absence. Isabelle, quietly seated 
at table with the others when they entered, received 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


321 


the baron with her usual sweet smile, and held out her little 
white hand to him. The comedians asked many ques- 
tions about his first experiences in Paris, and inquired 
mischievously whether he had brought his cloak, his 
purse, and his handkerchief home with him, to which de 
Sigognac joyfully answered in the affirmative. In this 
friendly banter he soon forgot his sombre thoughts, and 
asked himself whether he had not been the dupe of a 
hypochondriac fancy, which could see nothing anywhere 
but plots and conspiracies. 

He had not been alarmed without reason however, for 
his enemies, vexed but not discouraged by the failure of 
their several attempts upon him, had by no means re- 
nounced their determination to make way with him. 
Merindol, who was threatened by the duke with being 
sent back to the galleys whence he had rescued him, un- 
less he and his comrades succeeded in disposing of the 
Baron de Sigognac, resolved to invoke the assistance of 
a certain clever rascal of his acquaintance, who had never 
been known to fail in any job of that kind which he 
undertook. He no longer felt himself capable to cope 
with the baron, and moreover now labored under the 
serious disadvantage of being personally known to him. 
He went accordingly to look up his friend, Jacquemin 
Lampourde by name, who lodged not very far from the 
Pont-Neuf, and was lucky enough to find him at home, 
sleeping off the effects of his last carouse. He awoke 
him with some difficulty, and was violently abused for 
his pains. Then, having quietly waited until his friend’s 
first fury was exhausted, he announced that he had come 
to consult with him on important business, having an ex- 
cellent job to intrust to him, and begging that he would 
be good enough to listen to what he had to say. 


322 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


“ I never listen to anybody when I am drunk,” said 
Jacquemin Lampourde, majestically, putting his elbow 
on his knee as he spoke, and resting his head on his 
hand — “ and besides, I have plenty of money — any 
quantity of gold /pieces. We plundered a rich English 
lord last night, who was a walking cash-box, and I am a 
gentleman of wealth just at present. However, one 
evening at lansquenet may swallow it all up. I can’t 
resist gambling you know, and I’m deuced unlucky at 
it, so I will see you to-night about this little matter of 
yours. Meet me at the foot of the bronze statue on the 
Pont-Neuf at midnight. I shall be as fresh and bright as 
a lark by that time, and ready for anything. You shall 
give me your instructions then, and we will agree upon 
my share of the spoils. It should be something hand- 
some, for I have the vanity to believe that no one would 
come and disturb a fellow of my calibre for any insignifi- 
cant piece of business. But after all I am weary of 
playing the thief and pickpocket — it is beneath me — and 
I mean to devote all my energies in future to the noble 
art of assassination ; it is more worthy of my undisputed 
prowess. I would rather be a grand, man-slaying lion 
than any meaner beast of prey. If this is a question of 
killing I am your man— but one thing more, it must be a 
fellow who will defend himself. Our victims are so apt 
to be cowardly, and give in without a struggle — it is no 
better than sticking a pig — and that I cannot stand, it 
disgusts me. A good manly resistance, the more stub- 
born the better, gives a pleasant zest to the task.” 

“You may rest easy on that score,” M^rindol replied, 
with a malicious smile ; “ you will find a tough customer 
to handle, I promise you.” 

“ So much the better,” said Lampourde, “ for it is a 


THE PONT-NEUF. 


323 


long time since I have found an adversary worth crossing 
swords with. But enough of this for the present. Good- 
bye to you, and let me finish my nap.” 

But he tried in vain to compose himself to sleep again, 
and, after several fruitless efforts, gave it up as a bad 
job ; then began to shake a companion, who had slept 
soundly on the floor under the table during the preceding 
discussion, and when he had succeeded in rousing him, 
both went off to a gaming-house, where lansquenet was 
in active progress. The company was composed of 
thieves, cut-throats, professional bullies, ruffians of every 
sort, lackeys, and low fellows of various callings, and a 
few well-to-do, unsophisticated bourgeois, who had been 
enticed in there — unfortunate pigeons, destined to be 
thoroughly plucked. Lampourde, who played reck- 
lessly, had soon lost all his boasted wealth, and was left 
with empty pockets. He took his bad luck with the 
utmost philosophy. 

“ Ouf ! ” said he to his companion, when they had gone 
out into the street, and the cool, night air blew refresh- 
ingly upon his heated face, ‘‘ here am I rid of my money, 
and a free man again. It is strange that it should always 
make such a brute of me. It surprises me no longer that 
rich men should invariably be such stupid fools. Now, 
that I haven’t a penny left, I feel as gay as a lark — ready 
for anything. Brilliant ideas buzz about my brain, like 
bees around the hive. Lampourde’s himself again. But 
there’s the Samaritan striking twelve, and a friend of mine 
must be waiting for me down by the bronze Henri IV., 
so good-night.” 

He quitted his companion and walked quickly to the 
rendezvous, where he found Merindol, diligently studying 
his own shadow in the moonlight ; and the two ruffians. 


324 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


after looking carefully about them to make sure that 
there was no one within ear-shot, held a long consulta- 
tion, in very low tones. What they said we do not know ; 
but, when Lampourde quitted the agent of the Duke of 
Vallomb reuse, he joyously jingled the handful of gold 
pieces in ' his pocket, with an imprudent audacity that 
showed conclusively how much he was respected by the 
thieves and cut-throats who haunted the Pont-Neuf. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE CROWNED RADISH. 

Jacquemin Lampourde, after parting company with 
Merindol, seemed in great uncertainty as to which way 
he should go, and had not yet decided when he reached 
the end of the Pont-Neuf. He was like the donkey 
between two bundles of hay ; or, if that comparison be 
not pleasing, like a piece of iron between two magnets of 
equal power. On the one side was lansquenet, with the 
fascinating excitement of rapidly winning and losing the 
broad gold pieces that he loved ; and on the other the 
tavern, with its tempting array of bottles ; for he was a 
drunkard as well as a gambler, this same notorious 
Jacquemin Lampourde. He stood stock still for a 
while, debating this knotty point with himself, quite un- 
able to come to a decision, and growing very much vexed 
at his own hesitation, when suddenly a brilliant idea oc- 
curred to him, and, plunging his hand into his well-filled 
pocket, he drew forth a gold piece, which he tossed 
into the air, crying, “Head for the tavern, tail for 
lansquenet.” The coin rang upon the pavement as it 
fell, and he kneeled down to see what fate had decided 
for him ; head was up. “ Very well,” said he, philosoph- 
ically, as he picked up the piece of money, carefully 
wiped off the mud, and put it back in his pocket, “ I’ll go 
and get drunk.” Then, with long strides, he made off to 
his favorite tavern, which had the advantage of being in 

325 


326 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


the immediate vicinity of his own lodgings, so that with 
a few zigzags he was at home, after he had filled himself 
with wine from the soles of his boots to the apple in his 
throat. It was not an inviting-looking place, this same 
tavern, with the odd device of an enormous radish, bear- 
ing a golden crown — now rather tarnished — which had 
served as its sign for many generations of wine-drinkers. 
The heavy wooden shutters were all closed when Lam- 
pourde reached it ; but by the bright light streaming 
through their crevices, and the sounds of song and revelry 
that reached his ear, he knew that there must be a numer- 
ous company within. Knocking on the door in a pecu- 
liar way with the handle of his sword, he made himself 
known as an habitue of the house, and was promptly ad- 
mitted — the door being carefully made fast again the 
moment he had entered. The large, low room into 
which he made his way was filled with the smoke from 
many pipes, and redolent with the fumes of wine. A 
cheerful wood fire was blazing on the hearth, lighting up 
the array of bottles in the bar, which was placed near it, 
where the master of the establishment sat enthroned, 
keeping a watchful eye on the noisy crowd gathered round 
the many small tables with which the room abounded, 
drinking, smoking, playing at various games, and singing 
ribald songs. Lampourde paid no attention to the up- 
roarious throng, further than to look about and make 
sure that none of his own particular friends and asso- 
ciates were among them. He found an unoccupied table, 
to which a servant quickly brought a bottle of fine old 
Canary wine, very choice and rare, which was reserved 
for a few privileged and appreciative customers, who 
could afford to indulge in such luxuries. Although he 
was quite by himself, two glasses were placed before him, 


THE CROWNED RADISH. 


327 


as his dislike to drinking alone was well known, and at 
any moment a comrade might come in and join him. 
Meantime he slowly filled his own glass, raised it to the 
level of his eyes, and looked long and lovingly through 
the beautiful, clear topaz of the generous wine. Having 
thus satisfied the sense of sight, he passed to that of 
smell, and held the glass under his nostrils, where he 
could enjoy the delicious aroma rising from it, giving the 
wine a rotary motion as he did so, in a very artistic man- 
ner ; then, putting the glass to his lips, he let a few drops 
trickle slowly down over his tongue to his palate, length- 
ening out the enjoyment as much as possible, and giving 
an approving smack of relish as he at last swallowed the 
smooth nectar. Thus Maitre Jacquemin Lampourde 
managed to gratify three of the five senses man is blessed 
with by means of a single glass of wine. He pretended 
that the other two might also have a share of the enjoy- 
ment — that of touch by the highly-polished surface and 
swelling curves of the wine-glass, and that of hearing by 
the merry ringing when two glasses are clinked together, 
or by the musical sounds to be brought forth from a glass 
by drawing the moistened finger round and round the 
edge of it. But these are fantastic and paradoxical ideas, 
which only serve to show the vicious refinement of this 
fastidious ruffian. He had been but a few minutes alone 
when an odd-looking, shabbily dressed individual came 
in, who rejoiced in a remarkably pale face, which looked , 
as if it had been chalked, and a nose as red and fiery as 
a live coal ; the idea of how many casks of wine and bot- 
tles of brandy must have been imbibed to bring it to such 
an intensity of erubescence would be enough to terrify 
the ordinary thinker. This singular countenance was 
like a cheese, with a bright, red cherry stuck in the mid- 


328 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE, 


die of it ; and to finish the portrait it would only be neces- 
sary to add two apple seeds, placed a little obliquely, for 
the eyes, and a wide gash for a mouth. Such was Malartic 
— the intimate friend, the Pylades, the Euryalus, the 
“fidus Achates” of Jacquemin Lampourde ; who cer- 
tainly was not handsome — but his mental and moral qual- 
ities made up for his little physical disadvantages. Next 
to Lampourde — for whom he professed the most exalted 
admiration and respect — he was accounted the most 
skilful swordsman in Paris ; he was always lucky at 
cards, and could drink to any extent without becoming 
intoxicated. For the rest, he was a man of great delicacy 
and honor, in his way — ready to run any risk to help or 
support a friend, and capable of enduring any amount of 
torture rather than betray his comrades — so that he 
enjoyed the universal and unbounded esteem of his 
circle. 

Malartic went straight to Lampourde’s table, sat down 
opposite to him, silently seized the glass the other had 
promptly filled, and drained it at a single draught ; evi- 
dently his method differed from his friend’s, but that it 
was equally efficacious his nose bore indisputable witness. 
The two men drank steadily and in silence until they had 
emptied their third bottle, and then called for pipes. When 
they had puffed away for a while, and enveloped them- 
selves in a dense cloud of smoke, they fell into conver- 
sation, deploring the bad times since the king, his court 
and followers, had all gone to Saint Germain, and com- 
paring notes as to their own individual doings since their 
last meeting. Thus far they had paid no attention what- 
ever to the company round them, but now such a loud 
discussion arose over the conditions of a bet between 
two men about some feat that one of them declared he 


THE CROWNED RADISH. 


329 


could perform and the other pronounced impossible, that 
they both looked round to see what it was all about. A 
man of lithe, vigorous frame, with a complexion dark as 
a Moor’s, jet-black hair and flashing eyes, was drawing 
out of his red girdle a large, dangerous looking knife, 
which, when opened, was nearly as long as a sword, and 
called in Valencia, where it was made, a navaja. He 
carefully examined and tested the edge and point of 
this formidable weapon, with which he seemed satisfied, 
said to the man he had been disputing with, “ I am ready ! ” 
then turned and called, “ Chiquita ! Chiquita ! ” 

At the sound of her name a little girl, who had been 
sleeping, rolled up in a cloak, on the floor in a dark cor- 
ner, rose and came towards Agostino — for it was he of 
course — and, fixing her large dark eyes upon his face 
earnestly, said, “ Master, what do you want me to do ? 
I am ready to obey you here as everywhere else, because 
you are so brave, and have so many red marks on your 
navaja." 

Chiquita said this rapidly, in a patois which was as 
unintelligible to the Frenchmen around her as German, 
Hebrew or Chinese. Agostino took her by the hand and 
placed her with her back against the door, telling her to 
keep perfectly still, and the child, accustomed to that 
sort of thing, showed neither alarm nor surprise, but 
stood quietly, looking straight before her with perfect 
serenity, while Agostino, at the other end of the room, 
standing with one foot advanced, balanced the dread na- 
vaja in his hand. Suddenly with a quick jerking move- 
ment he sent it flying through the air, and it struck into the 
wooden door, just over Chiquita’s head. As it darted by, 
like a flash of lightning, the spectators had involuntarily 
closed their eyes for a second, but the fragile child’s long 


330 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


dark eyelashes did not even quiver. The brigand’s won- 
derful skill elicited a loud burst of admiration and ap- 
plause from an audience not easily surprised or pleased, 
in which even the man who had lost his wager joined en- 
thusiastically. Agostino went and drew out the knife, 
which was still vibrating, and returning to his place this 
time sent it in between Chiquita’s arm — which was hang- 
ing down by her side — and her body ; if it had devi- 
ated a hair’s breadth it must have wounded her. At 
this everybody cried enough, but Agostino insisted upon 
aiming at the other side as well, so as to prove to them 
that there was no chance about it ; that it was purely a 
matter of skill. Again the terrible navaja flew through 
the air, and went straight to the mark, and Chiquita, 
very much delighted at the applause that followed, 
looked about her proudly, glorying in Agostino’s tri- 
umph. She still wore Isabelle’s pearl beads round her 
slender brown neck ; in other respects was much better 
dressed than when we first saw her, and even had shoes 
on her tiny feet ; they seemed to worry and annoy her 
very much, it is true, but she found them a necessary 
nuisance on the cold Paris pavements, and so had to 
submit to wearing them with as good a grace as she 
could muster. When Agostino gave her leave to quit 
her position she quietly returned to her corner, rolled 
herself up anew in the large cloak, and fell sound asleep 
again, while he, after pocketing the five pistoles he had 
won, sat down to finish his measure of cheap wine ; 
which he did very slowly, intending to remain where he 
was as long as possible ; he had no lodging place yet in 
Paris, having arrived that very evening, and this warm 
room was far more comfortable than a refuge in some 
convent porch, or under the arch of a bridge perhaps. 


THE CROWNED RADISH. 


331 


where he had feared that he and Chiquita might have 
to lie shivering all night long. 

Quiet being restored, comparatively speaking, Lam- 
pourde and Malartic resumed their interrupted conver- 
sation, and after a few remarks upon the strange per- 
formance they had just witnessed — in which Lampourde. 
especially praised Agostino’s marvellous skill, and 
Malartic warmly commended Chiquita’s wonderful 
courage and sang-froid — the former confided to his 
friend that he had a piece of work in prospect, in which 
he would need some assistance, and desired to have his 
opinion as to which of their comrades would be best 
suited for his purpose. He told him that, in the first 
place, he was commissioned to despatch a certain Captain 
Fracasse, an actor, who had dared to interfere with the 
love affair of a very great lord. In this, of course, he 
would not require any aid ; but he had also to make ar- 
rangements for the abduction of the lady, a very beauti- 
ful young actress, who was beloved by both the nobleman 
and the comedian, and who would be zealously defended 
by the members of the dramatic company to which she 
belonged ; so that he should be obliged to resort to 
some stratagem, and would probably need the help of 
several hands to carry it out — adding that they were sure 
of being well paid, for the young lord was as generous 
and open-handed as he was wealthy and determined. 
Thereupon they fell to discussing the respective merits 
of their numerous friends and acquaintances — gentlemen 
of the same stamp as themselves — and having decided 
upon four, and determined to keep an eye upon Agos- 
tino, who seemed a clever rascal and might be of use, 
they called for another bottle of wine. When that was 
finished Jacquemin Lampourde was indisputably drunk, 


332 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


I and having loyally kept his word, retired, somewhat 
unsteadily, to his own quarters in a high state of 
maudlin satisfaction, accompanied by his friend Ma- 
lartic, whom he had invited to spend the night with him. 
By this time — it was nearly four o’clock in the morning 
— the Crowned Radish was almost deserted, and the 
master of the establishment, seeing that there was no 
prospect of further custom, told his servants to rouse up 
and turn out all the sleepers — Agostino and Chiquita 
among the rest — and his orders were promptly executed. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


A DOUBLE ATTACK. 

The Duke of Vallombreuse was not a man to neglect 
his love affairs, any more than his enemies. If he hated 
de Sigognac mortally, he felt for Isabelle that furious 
passion which the unattainable is apt to excite in a 
haughty and violent nature like his, that has never met 
with resistance. To get possession of the young actress 
had become the ruling thought of his life. Spoiled 
by the easy victories he had always gained heretofore, in 
his career of gallantry, his failure in this instance was 
utterly incomprehensible to him, as well as astonishing 
and maddening. He could not understand it. Often- 
times in the midst of a conversation, at the theatre, 
at church, at the court, anywhere and everywhere, the 
thought of it would suddenly rush into his mind, sweep- 
ing everything before it, overwhelming him afresh with 
wonder and amazement. And indeed it could not be easy 
for a man who did not believe that such an anomaly 
as a truly virtuous woman ever existed — much less a virtu- 
ous actress — to understand Isabelle’s firm resistance to 
the suit of such a rich and handsome young nobleman 
as himself. He sometimes wondered whether it could be 
that after all she was only playing a part, and holding 
back for a while so as to obtain more from him in the 
end — tactics that he knew were not unusual — but the in- 
dignant, peremptory way in which she had rejected the 

333 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 



\ 


334 


casket of jewels proved conclusively that no such base 
motives actuated Isabelle. All his letters she had re- 
turned unopened. All his advances she had persistently 
repulsed ; and he was at his wit’s end to know what to do 
next. Finally he concluded to send for old Madame 
Leonarde to come and talk the matter over with him ; 
he had kept up secret relations with her, as it is always 
well to have a spy "in the enemy’s camp. The duke re- 
ceived her, when she came in obedience to his summons, 
in his own particular and favored room, to which she was 
conducted by a private staircase. It was a most dainty 
and luxurious apartment, fitted up with exquisite taste, 
and hung round with portraits of beautiful women — admi- 
rably painted by Simon Vouet, a celebrated master of that 
day — representing different mythological characters, and 
set in richly carved oval frames. These were all like- 
nesses of the young duke’s various mistresses, each one 
displaying her own peculiar charms to the greatest possi- 
ble advantage, and having consented to sit for her por- 
trait — in a costume and character chosen by the duke — 
as a special favor, without the most remote idea that it 
was to form part of a gallery. 

When the duenna had entered and made her best 
curtsey, the duke condescendingly signed to her to be 
seated, and immediately began to question her eagerly 
about Isabelle — as to whether there were any signs yet 
of her yielding to his suit, and also how matters were 
progressing between her and the detested Captain Fra- 
casse. Although the crafty old woman endeavored to 
put the best face upon everything, and was very diplo- 
matic in her answers to these searching questions, the in- 
formation that she had to give was excessively displeas- 
ing to the imperious young nobleman, who had much 


A DOUBLE ATTACK. 


335 


ado to control his temper sufficiently to continue the 
conversation. Before he let her go he begged her to 
suggest some plan by which he could hope to soften the 
obdurate beauty — appealing to her great experience in 
such intrigues, and offering to give her any reward she 
chose to claim if she would but help him to succeed. 
She had nothing better to propose, however, than se- 
cretly administering a strong narcotic to Isabelle, and 
concerting some plan to deliver her into his hands while 
unconscious from the effects of it ; which even the un- 
scrupulous young duke indignantly rejected. Whereupon, 
fixing her wicked old eyes admiringly upon his handsome 
face, and apparently moved by a sudden inspiration, she 
said : “ But why does not your lordship conduct this af- 
fair in person ? why not begin a regular and assiduous 
courtship in the good old style ? You are as beautiful as 
Adonis, my lord duke ! You are young, fascinating, 
powerful, wealthy, a! favorite at court, rich in everything 
that is pleasing to the weaker sex ; and there is not a 
woman on earth who could long hold out against you, if 
you would condescend, my lord, to plead your own cause 
with her.” 

“By Jove ! the old woman is right,” said Vallombreuse 
to himself, glancing complacently at the reflection of his 
own handsome face and figure in a full-length mirror op- 
posite to him ; “ Isabelle may be virtuous and cold, but 
she is not blind, and Nature has not been so unkind to 
me that the sight of me should inspire her with horror. 
I can at least hope to produce the same happy effect as 
a fine statue or picture, which attracts and charms the 
eye by its symmetry, or its beautiful and harmonious col- 
oring. Then, kneeling at her feet, I can softly whisper 
some of those persuasive words that no woman can listen 


336 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


to unmoved — accompanied by such passionately ardent 
looks that the ice round her heart will melt under them 
and vanish quite away. Not one of the loftiest, haugh- 
tiest ladies at the court has ever been able to withstand 
them — they have thawed the iciest, most immaculate of 
them all ; and besides, it surely cannot fail to flatter the 
pride of this disdainful, high-spirited little actress to have 
a real duke actually and openly kneeling at her feet. 
Yes, I will take the old woman’s advice, and pay my 
court to her so charmingly and perseveringly that I shall 
conquer at last — she will not be able to withstand me, 
my sweet Isabelle. And it will be a miracle indeed if 
she has a regret left then for that cursed de Sigognac ; 
who shall no longer interfere between my love and me — 
that I swear ! She will soon forget him in my arms.” 

Having dismissed old Madame Leonarde with a hand- 
some gratuity, the duke next summoned his valet, Picard, 
and held an important consultation with him, as to his 
most becoming costumes, finally deciding upon a very 
rich but comparatively plain one, all of black velvet ; 
whose elegant simplicity he thought would be likely to 
suit Isabelle’s fastidious taste better than any more 
gorgeous array, and in which it must be confessed that 
he looked adorably handsome — his really beautiful face 
and fine figure appearing to the utmost advantage. 

His toilet completed, he sent a peremptory order to his 
coachman to have the carriage, with the four bays, ready 
in a quarter of an hour. When Picard had departed on 
this errand, Vallombreuse began pacing slowly to and 
fro in his chamber, glancing into the mirror each time 
he passed it with a self-satisfied smile. “ That proud 
little minx must be deucedly cross-grained and unap- 
preciative,” said he, “ if she does not perceive how much 


A DOUBLE ATTACK. 


337 


more worthy I am of her admiration than that shabby 
de Sigognac. Oh, yes ! she’ll be sure to come round, in 
spite of her obstinate affectation of such ferocious virtue, 
and her tiresome, Platonic love for her impecunious 
suitor. Yes, my little beauty, your portrait shall figure 
in one of those oval frames ere long. I think I’ll have 
you painted as chaste Diana, descended from the sky, 
despite her coldness, to lavish sweet kisses on Endymion. 
You shall take your place among those other goddesses, 
who were as coy and hard to please at first as yourself, 
and who are far greater ladies, my dear, than you ever 
will be. Your fall is at hand, and you must learn, as 
your betters have done before you, that there’s no with- 
standing the will of a Vallomb reuse. ‘Frango nec 
frangor,’ is my motto.” 

A servant entered to announce that the carriage awaited 
his lordship’s pleasure, and during the short drive from 
his own house to the Rue Dauphine, the young duke, 
despite his arrogant assurance, felt his heart beating 
faster than usual as he wondered how Isabelle would 
receive him. When the splendid carriage, with its four 
prancing horses and servants in gorgeous liveries, drove 
into the courtyard of the hotel where the comedians 
were stopping, the landlord himself, cap in hand, rushed 
out to ask the pleasure of the lordly visitor ; but, rapid 
as were his movements, the duke had already alighted 
before he could reach him. He cut short the obsequious 
host’s obeisances and breathless offers of service by an 
impatient gesture, and said peremptorily, 

“ Mademoiselle Isabelle is stopping here. I wish to 
see her. Is she at home ? Do not send to announce my 
visit ; only let me have a servant to show me the way to 
her room.” 


15 


338 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


“ My lord, let me have the glory of conducting your 
lordship myself — such an honor is too great for a rascally 
servant — I myself am not worthy of so distinguished a 
privilege.” 

As you please,” said Vallombreuse, with haughty neg- 
ligence, “ only be quick about it. There are people at 
every window already, staring down at me as if I were 
the Grand Turk in person.” 

He followed his guide, who, with many bows and 
apologies, preceded him upstairs, and down a long, nar- 
row corridor with doors on either side, like a convent, 
until they reached Isabelle’s room, where the landlord 
paused, and, bowing lower than ever, asked what name 
he should have the honor of announcing. 

“You can go, now,” the duke replied, laying his hand 
on the door ; “ I will announce myself.” 

Isabelle was sitting by the window, diligently studying 
her part in a new play to be shortly put in rehearsal, 
and, at the moment the Duke of Vallombreuse softly en- 
terred her chamber, was repeating, in a low voice and 
with closed eyes, the verses she was learning by heart — 
just as a child does its lessons. The light from the 
window shone full upon her beautiful head and face — 
seen in profile — and her lovely figure, thrown back in a 
negligent attitude full of grace and abandofi. She made 
a most bewitching picture thus, and with a delicious ef- 
fect of chiaroscuro that would have enchanted an artist 
— it enthralled the young duke. 

Supposing that the intruder who entered so quietly 
was only the chambermaid, come to perform some for- 
gotten duty, Isabelle did not interrupt her study orTook 
up, but went on composedly with her recitation. The 
duke, who had breathlessly advanced vto the centre of the 



“ HE SANK GRACEFULLY DOWN UPON ONE KNEE 







<•1 


V ^ 




, tr . V ^ .. . . «i^V^'<T;<' '• ir - ■' ■•• ': • ^ • ' 

•' ''.'H^V'-, '' \'V5'''' -'i ^ 



v' 


* I 




JjiL- 

; : ^ : - < 


. ..\ ;* V 


•-5,; 




V • 


If?-’ 




1. / 





> T ■- •' •■ ^ w - ^U* • • »i- 

.. . ..I^IJW-.,- • '. ■■ :^ -fr-^i • .-. 

.“ J’'>V L?^‘V ■'• i'''-^-'-' •■ •''•i- • ■"--‘^-r-J. 

. . ':.»r i.wJ, ■ ^•..«: * -■‘- ^ -. - * •■ ■■' ' 


^ :T' ’ r • V. 




: « .'- 


• « 




r ; ^ » 






4 * 

A 


‘ 


•W 

_ » 


l >•. ^ r. 2., ,. . .,v ..,: ; - > \«r. ■ t* ' . ^ - 


: iX ■ ; r-v ■■ =■' , ■' :•■; '■ -■ , : •■■ .-. --t' ■' " ' ' . '■ .' • ■' 


'4- 


n . •' ■■'' 

-■* _ V N 


■'■■■^?. \ r;\- 


ff* 



ly 


\ 


^7 


** ♦ . 





• 

■r’ 

- » • 

■ ^ ' 

•: 

• ’ 

4 -•# 




!f- 

N. ^ ■ 
-< ■ 


'■V#' ■■«,'■, ••*',' ■; iL'<‘. ^ . *..♦,< • ■ 

' • '•( ^ • ■'• ^ ■— vki' 

. ■ ■4'. ^•,S*^'^ '. . ., •4->*<... . 




'ki-'" 

*K 



■ < ^•: ' , 

I » 

r KX: • V‘ . y ^ ,■ ■ ■ . ■? . 


y • ■ . f V >, * ■ f * 

■'v.. a-'i^ , y ..;v- ,'~ .r . r.--.* 

■ Vri.' S*. 


• < ’■ \>« » 


^ \ V 


] 


h -v. 

' ** 

s'? 


. -r 


V'-. 



> / 


X. 


W 



1 ^ #'-■- r' V 

•y. . ,4 V 


i • ••!-..• ^ • 




> 





* _ * 
jJ • i ' • • ••^1 


* . t4 



/ 


r^' 

. 


^ f 


%• 


• 4. 


f \, ■•'PS 







• Jf 






. /)£?■ ^ 


» . t - •• 

V -* I ^ 


*wS ■'.• •*;.- ■ 

* *•'.. »■ '■ 1 


»> 




•» : t, ■ r 


to>r. ■ - , * . rj o. - "-.' ^ C\ , . ' 




A DOUBLE ATTACK. 


339 


room, paused there, and stood motionless, gazing with 
rapture upon her beauty. As he waited for her to open 
her eyes and become aware of his presence, he sank 
gracefully down upon one knee, holding his hat so that 
its long plume swept the floor, and laying his hand on 
his heart, in an attitude that was slightly theatrical per- 
haps, but as respectful as if he had been kneeling before 
a queen. Excitement and agitation had flushed his pale 
cheeks a little, his eyes were luminous and full of fire, 
a sweet smile hovered on his rich, red lips, and he had 
never looked more splendidly, irresistibly handsome in 
his life. At last Isabelle moved, raised her eyelids, 
turned her head, and perceived the Duke of Vallom- 
breuse, kneeling within six feet of her. If Perseus had 
suddenly appeared before her, holding up Medusa’s hor- 
rid head, the effect would have been much the same. 
She sat like a statue, motionless, breathless, as if she 
had been petrified, or frozen stiff — her eyes, dilated with 
excessive terror, fixed upon his face, her lips parted, her 
throat parched and dry, her tongue paralyzed — unable to 
move or speak. A ghastly pallor overspread her horror- 
stricken countenance, a deathly chill seized upon all her 
being, and for one dreadful moment of supreme anguish 
she feared that she was going to faint quite away ; but, 
by a desperate, prodigious effort of will, she recalled her 
failing senses, that she might not leave herself entirely 
defenceless in the power of her cruel persecutor. 

“ Can it be possible that I inspire such overwhelming 
horror in ^our gentle breast, my sweet Isabelle,” said 
Vallombreuse in his most dulcet tones, and without stir- 
ring from his position, “ that the mere sight of me pro- 
duces an effect like this ? Why, a wild beast, crouch- 
ing to spring upon you from his lair, with angry roar and 


340 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


blazing eye-balls, could not terrify you more. My pres- 
ence here may be a little sudden and startling, I admit ; 
but you must not be too hard upon one who lives only to 
love and adore you. I knew that I risked your anger 
when I decided to take this step ; but I could not exist 
any longer without a sight of you, and I humbly crave 
your pardon if I have offended you by my ardor and de- 
votion. I kneel at your feet, fair lady, a despairing and 
most unhappy suppliant for your grace and favor.” 

“ Rise, my lord, I beseech you,” said the frightened, 
trembling girl, speaking with great difficulty and in a 
voice that sounded strange in her own ears ; “ such a po- 
sition does not become your rank. I am only an actress, 
and my poor attractions do not warrant such homage. 
Forget this fleeting fancy, I pray you, 'and carry elsewhere 
the ardor and devotion that are wasted upon me, and 
that so many great and noble ladies would be proud and 
happy to receive and re'ward.” 

“ What do I care for other women, be they what they 
may?” cried Vallombreuse impetuously, as he rose in 
obedience to her request ; “ it x^your pride and purity that 
I adore, your beauty and goodness that I worship ; your 
very cruelty is more charming to me than the utmost 
favor of any other woman in the world. Your sweet 
modesty and angelic loveliness have inspired in me a 
passion that is almost delirium, and unless you can learn 
to love me I shall die — I cannot live without you. You 
need not be afraid of me,” he added, as Isabelle recoiled 
when he made one step forward, and tried to open the 
window with her trembling hands, as if she meant to 
throw herself out in case of his coming any nearer ; “ see, 
I will stay where I am. I will not touch you, not even 
the hem of your garment, so great is my respect for you, 


A DOUBLE ATTACK. 


341 


charming Isabelle ! I do not ask anything more than 
that you will deign to suffer my presence here a little 
longer now, and permit me to pay my court to you, lay 
siege to your heart, and wait patiently until it surrenders 
itself to me freely and of its own accord, as it surely will. 
The most respectful lover could not do more.” 

“ Spare me this useless pursuit, my lord,” pleaded Isa- 
belle, “ and I will reward you with the warmest gratitude ; 
but love you I cannot, now or ever.” 

“ You have neither father, brother, husband, or affianced 
lover,” persisted Vallombreuse, “to forbid the advances 
of a gallant gentleman, who seeks only to please and serve 
you. My sincere homage is surely not insulting to you ; 
why do you repulse me so ? Oh ! you do not dream 
what a splendid prospect would open out before you if 
you would but yield to my entreaties. I would surround 
you with everything that is beautiful and dainty, luxu- 
rious and rare. I would anticipate your every wish ; I 
would devote my whole life to your service The story of 
our love should be more enchanting, more blissful than that 
of Love himself with his delicious Psyche — not even the 
gods could rival us. Come, Isabelle, do not turn so coldly 
away from me, do not persevere in this maddening silence, 
nor drive to desperation and desperate deeds a passion 
that is capable of anything, of everything, save renounc- 
ing its adored object, your own sweet, charming self ! ” 

“ But this love, of which any other woman would be 
justly proud,” said Isabelle modestly, “ I cannot return 
or accept ; you must believe me, my lord, for I mean 
every word I say, and I shall never swerve from this de- 
cision. Even if the virtue and purity that I value more 
highly than life itself were not against it, I should still 
feel myself obliged to decline this dangerous honor.” 


342 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


“ Deign to look upon me with favor and indulgence, 
my sweet Isabelle,” continued Vallombreuse, without 
heeding her words, and I will make you an object of 
envy to the greatest and noblest ladies in all France. To 
any other woman I should say — take what you please of 
my treasures — my chateaux, my estates, my gold, my jew- 
els — dress your lackeys in liveries richer than the court 
costumes of princes — have your horses shod with silver — 
live as luxuriously as a queen — make even Paris wonder 
at your lavish splendor if you will — though Paris is not 
easily roused to wonder — but I well know that you have a 
soul far above all such sordid temptations as these. They 
would have no weight with you, my noble Isabelle ! But 
there is a glory that may. touch you — that of having con- 
quered Vallombreuse — of leading him captive behind 
your chariot wheels — of commanding him as your ser- 
vant, and your slave. Vallombreuse, who has never 
yielded, before — who has been the commander, not the 
commanded — and whose proud neck has never yet bowed 
to wear the fetters that so many fair hands have essayed 
to fasten round it.” 

“ Such a captive would be too illustrious for my 
chains,” said Isabelle, firmly, “ and as I could never con- 
sent to accept so much honor at your hands, my lord, 
I pray you to desist, and relieve me of your pres- 
ence.” 

Hitherto the Duke of Vallombreuse had managed to 
keep his temper under control ; he had artfully concealed 
his naturally violent and domineering spirit under a feigned 
mildness and humility, but, at Isabelle’s determined and 
continued — though modest and respectful — resistance to 
his pleading, his anger was rapidly rising to boiling point. 
He felt that there was love — devoted love — for another 


A DOUBLE ATTACK, 


343 


behind her persistent rejection of his suit, and his wrath 
and jealousy augmented each other. Throwing aside all 
restraint, he advanced towards her impetuously — whereat 
she made another desperate effort to tear open the case- 
ment. A fierce frown contracted his brow, he gnawed his 
under lip savagely, and his whole face was transformed — 
if it had been beautiful enough for an angel’s before, it 
was like a demon’s now.” 

“Why don’t you tell the truth,” he cried, in a loud, 
angry voice, “ and say that you are madly in love with that 
precious rascal, de Sigognac ? That is the real reason 
for all this pretended virtue that you shamelessly flaunt 
in men’s fUces. What is there about that cursed scoun- 
drel, I should like to know, that charms you so ? Am I 
not handsomer, of higher rank, younger, richer, as clever, 
and as much in love with you as he can possibly be ? aye, 
and more — ten thousand times more.” 

“ He has at least one quality that you are lacking in, 
my lord,” said Isabelle, with dignity ; “ he knows how to 
respect the woman he loves.” 

“ That’s only because he cares so little about you, my 
charmer ! ” cried Vallombreuse, suddenly seizing Isabelle, 
who vainly strove to escape from him, in his arms, and 
straining her violently to his breast — despite her frantic 
struggles, and agonized cry for help. As if in response 
to it, the door was suddenly opened, and the tyrant, mak- 
ing the most deprecating gestures and profound bows, en- 
tered the room and advanced towards Isabelle, who was 
at once released by Vallombreuse, with muttered curses 
at this most inopportune intrusion. 

“ I beg your pardon. Mademoiselle,” said Herode, with 
a furtive glance at the duke, “ for interrupting you. I 
did not know that you were in such good company ; but 


344 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


the hour for rehearsal has struck, and we are only wait- ‘ 
ing for you to begin.” "! 

He had left the door ajar, and an apparently waiting ] 

group could be discerned without, consisting of the pe- j 

dant, Scapin, Leander, and Zerbine ; a reassuring and j 

most welcome sight to poor Isabelle. For one instant the ; 

duke, in his rage, was tempted to draw his sword, make ; 

a furious charge upon the intruding canaille^ and disperse i 

them “ vi et ar?nis ” — but a second thought stayed his \ 

hand, as he realized that the killing or wounding of two or J 

three of these miserable actors would not further his suit ; j 

and besides, he could not stain his noble hands with such j 

vile blood as theirs. So he put force upon himself and 

restrained his rage, and, bowing with icy politeness to | 

Isabelle, who, trembling in every limb, had edged nearer \ 

to her friends, he made his way out of the room ; turn- j 

ing, however, at the threshold to say, with peculiar em- < 

phasis, “ ail revoir, mademoiselle ! ” — a very simple i 

phrase certainly, but replete with significance of a very i 

terrible and threatening nature from the way in which it > ■ 

was spoken. His face was so expressive of evil passions i 

as he said it that Isabelle shuddered, and felt a violent i 

' j 

spasm of fear pass over her, even though the presence of .j 

her companions guaranteed her against any further at- J 

tempts at violence just then. She felt the mortal an- { 

guish of the fated dove, above which the cruel kite is i 

circling swiftly in the air, drawing nearer with every rapid j 

round. j 

The Duke of Vallombreuse regained his carriage, | 

which awaited him in the court, followed by the obse- j 

quious landlord, with much superfluous and aggravating 
ceremony that he would gladly have dispensed with, ' 
and the next minute the rumble of wheels indicated to 


A DOUBLE ATTACK. 


345 


Isabelle that her dangerous visitor had taken his de- 
parture. 

Now, to explain the timely interruption that came so 
opportunely to rescue Isabelle from her enemy’s clutches. 
The arrival of the duke in his superb carriage at the hotel 
in the Rue Dauphine had caused an excitement and flut- 
ter throughout the whole establishment, ^ which soon 
reached the ears of the tyrant, who, like Isabelle, was 
busy learning his new part in the seclusion of his own 
room. In the absence of de Sigognac, who was detained 
at the theatre to try on a new costume, the worthy tyrant, 
knowing the duke’s evil intentions, determined to keep a 
close watch over his actions, and having summoned the 
others, applied his ear to the key-hole of Isabelle’s door, 
and listened attentively to all that passed within — hold- 
ing himself in readiness to interfere at any moment, if the 
duke should venture to offer violence to the defenceless 
girl — and to his prudence and courage it was due that she 
escaped further persecution, on that occasion, from her re- 
lentless and unscrupulous tormentor. 

That day was destined to be an eventful one. It will 
be remembered that Lampourde, the professional assassin, 
had received from Merindol— -acting for the Duke of Val- 
lombreuse— a commission to put Captain Fracasse quietly 
out of the way, and accordingly that worthy was dodging 
about on the Pont-Neuf, at the hour of sunset, waiting to 
intercept his intended victim, who would necessarily pass 
that way in returning to his hotel. Jacquemin awaited 
his arrival impatiently, frequently breathing on his fingers 
and rubbing them vigorously, so that they should not be 
quite numb with the cold when the moment for action 
came, and stamping up and down in order to warm his half- 
frozen feet. The weather was extremely cold, and the 
15* 


346 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


sun had set behind the Pont Rouge, in a heavy mass 
of blood-red clouds. Twilight was coming on apace, 
and already there were only occasional foot-passengers, 
or vehicles, to be encountered hurrying along the de- 
serted streets. 

At last de Sigognac appeared, walking very fast, for a 
vague anxiety about Isabelle had taken possession of him, 
and he was in haste to get back to her. In his hurry and 
preoccupation he did not notice Lampourde, who sud- 
denly, approached and laid hold of his cloak, which he 
snatched off, with a quick, strong jerk that broke its fast- 
enings. Without stopping to dispute the cloak with his 
assailant, whom he mistook at first for an ordinary foot- 
pad, de Sigognac instantly drew his sword and attacked 
him, Lampourde, on his side, was ready for him, and 
pleased with the baron’s way of handling his weapon, 
said to himself, though in an audible tone, “ now for a 
little fun.” Then began a contest that would have de- 
lighted and astonished a connoisseur in fencing — such 
swift, lightning-like flashing of the blades, as they gave 
and parried cut and thrust — the clashing of the steel, the 
blue sparks that leaped from the contending swords as 
the fight grew more furious — Lampourde keeping up 
meanwhile an odd running commentary, as his wonder 
and admiration grew momentarily greater and more en- 
thusiastic, and he had soon reached an exulting mood. 
Here at last was a “ foeman worthy of his steel,” and he 
could not resist paying a tribute to the amazing skill that 
constantly and easily baffled his best efforts, in the shape 
of such extraordinary and original compliments that de 
Sigognac was mightily amused thereby. As usual, he was 
perfectly cool and self-possessed, keeping control of his 
temper as well as of his sword — though by this time he 


A DOUBLE ATTACK. 


347 


felt sure that it was another agent of the Duke of Val- 
lombreuse’s he had to deal with, and that his life, not his 
cloak, was the matter at stake. At last Lampourde, who 
had begun to entertain an immense respect for his val- 
iant opponent, could restrain his curiosity no longer, and 
eagerly asked, “ Would it be indiscreet, sir, to inquire who 
was your instructor ? Girolamo, Paraguante, or Cote 
d’Acier would have reason to be proud of such a pupil. 
Which one' of them was it ?” 

“ My only master was an old soldier, Pierre by name,” 
answered de Sigognac, more and more amused at the 
oddities of the accomplished swordsman he was en- 
gaged with. “ Stay, take that ! it is one of his favorite 
strokes.” 

“ The devil ! ” cried Lampourde, falling back a step, 
“ I was v’^ry ^^^rly done for, do youjknow, ! The point of 
your sword actually went through my sleeve and touched 
my arm — I felt the cold steel ; luckily for me it was not 
broad daylight — I should have been winged ; but you are 
not accustomed, like me, to this dim, uncertain light for 
such work. All the same, it was admirably well done, 
and Jacquemin Lampourde congratulates you upon it, 
sir ! Now, pay attention to me — I will not take any 
mean advantage of such a glorious foe as you are, and I 
give you fair warning that I am going to try on you my 
own secret and special thrust — the crowning glory of my 
art, the “ ne plus ultra ” of my science — the elixir of my 
life. It is known only to myself, and up to this time has 
been infallible. I have never failed to kill my man with 
it. If you can parry it I will teach it to you. It is my 
only possession, and I will leave it to you if you survive 
it ; otherwise I will take my secret to the grave with me. 
I have never yet found any one capable of executing it, 


348 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE, 


unless indeed it be yourself — admirable, incomparable 
swordsman that you are ! It is a joy to meet such an 
one. But suppose we suspend hostilities a moment to 
take breath.” 

So saying Jacquemin Lampourde lowered the point of 
his sword, and de Sigognac did the same. They stood 
eyeing each other for a few moments with mutual admi- 
ration and curiosity, and then resumed the contest more 
fiercely than ever — each man doing his best, as he had 
need to do, and enjoying it. After a few passes, de Sigog- 
nac became aware that his adversary was preparing to give 
the decisive blow, and held himself on his guard against 
a surprise ; when it came, delivered with terrible force, he 
parried it so successfully that Lampourde’s sword was 
broken short off in the encounter with his own trusty 
weapon, leaving only the hilt and a few inches of the 
blade in his hand. 

“ If you have not got the rest of my sword in your 
body,” cried Lampourde, excitedly, “you are a great 
man !— a hero ! — a god ! ” 

“ No,” de Sigognac replied calmly, “ it did not touch 
me ; and now, if I chose, I could pin you to the wall like 
a bat ; but that would be repugnant to me, though you 
did waylay me to take my life, and besides, you have 
really amused me with your droll sayings.” 

“Baron,” said Jacquemin Lampourde, calmly, “per- 
mit me, I humbly pray you, to be henceforth, so long as 
I live, your devoted admirer, your slave, your dog ! I 
was to be paid for killing you — I even received a portion 
of the money in advance, which I have spent. But 
never mind that ; I will pay it back, every penny of it, 
though I must rob some one else to do it.” 

With these words he picked up de Sigognac’s cloak, and 


A DOUBLE ATTACK. 


349 


having put it carefully, even reverentially over his 
shoulders, made him a profound obeisance, and de- 
parted. 

Thus the efforts of the Duke of Vallombreuse, to ad- 
vance his suit and to get rid of his rival, had once more 
failed ignominiously. 


CHAPTER XIV 


lampourde’s delicacy. 

It is easy to imagine the frame of mind in which the 
Duke of Vallombreuse returned home after his repulse by 
Isabelle, and her rescue from his arms by the timely in- 
tervention of her friends, the comedians. At sight of his 
face, fairly livid and contorted with suppressed rage, his 
servants trembled and shrunk away from him — as well 
they might — for his natural cruelty was apt to vent itself 
upon the first unhappy dependent that happened to come 
in his way when his wrath was excited. He was not an 
easy master to serve, even in his most genial mood — this 
haughty, exacting young nobleman — and in his frantic 
fits of anger he was more savage and relentless than a 
half-starved tiger. Upon entering his own house he 
rushed through it like a whirlwind, shutting every door 
behind him with such a violent bang that the very walls 
shook, and pieces of the gilt mouldings round the 
panels were snapped off, and scattered on the floor. 
When he reached his own room he flung down his hat 
with such force that it was completely flattened, and 
the feather broken short off. Then, unable to breathe 
freely, he tore open his rich velvet pourpoint^ as he 
rushed frantically to and fro, without any regard for the 
superb diamond buttons that fastened it, which flew in 
every direction. The exquisitely fine lace ruffles round 
his neck were reduced to shreds in a second, and with a 

350 


LAMPOURDE' S DELICACY. 


351 


vigorous kick he knocked over a large arm-chair that 
stood in his way, and left it upside down, with its legs in 
the air. 

“ The impudent little hussy ! ” he cried, as he continued 
his frenzied walk, like a wild beast in a cage. I have 
a great mind to have her thrown into prison, there to be 
well whipped, and have her hair shaved off, before being 
sent to a lunatic asylum— or better still to some strict 
convent where they take in bad girls who have been for- 
cibly rescued from lives of infamy. I could easily man- 
age it. But no, it would be worse than useless — persecu- 
tion would only make her hate me more, and would not 
make her love that cursed de Sigognac a bit less. How 
can I punish her ? what on earth shall I do ? ” and still 
he paced restlessly to and fro, cursing and swearing, 
and raving like a madman. While he was indulging in 
these transports of rage, without paying any attention to 
how the time was passing, evening drew on, and it was 
rapidly growing dark when his faithful Picard, full of com- 
miseration, screwed up his courage to the highest point, 
and ventured to go softly in — though he had not been 
called, and was disobeying orders — to light the candles 
in his master’s room ; thinking that he was quite gloomy 
enough already without being left in darkness as well, 
and hoping that the lights might help to make him more 
cheerful. They did seem to afford him some relief, in 
that they caused a diversion ; for his thoughts, which had 
been all of Isabelle and her cruel repulse of his passion- 
ate entreaties, suddenly flew to his successful rival, the 
Baron de Sigognac. 

“ But how is this ? ” he cried, stopping short in his 
rapid pacing up and down the room. “ How comes it 
that that miserable, degraded wretch has not been de- 


352 


CAFTAIN FRA CAS SE. 


spatched before this ? I gave the most explicit orders 
about it to that good-for-nothing Merindol. In spite of 
what Vidalinc says, I am convinced that I shall succeed 
with Isabelle when once that cursed lover of hers is out of 
my way. She will be left entirely at my mercy then, 
and will have to submit to my will and pleasure with the 
best grace she can muster — for I shall not allow any 
sulking or tears. Doubtless she clings so obstinately to 
that confounded brute in the belief that she can induce 
him to marry her in the end. She means to be Madame 
la Baronne de Sigognac — the aspiring little actress ! That 
must be the reason of all this mighty display of mock 
modesty, and of her venturing to repulse the attentions 
of a duke, as scornfully, by Jove ! as if he were a stable- 
boy. But she shall rue it — the impertinent little minx ! 
and I’ll have no mercy shown to the audacious scoundrel 
who dared to disable this right arm of mine. Halloa 
there ! send Merindol up to me instantly, do you hear ? ” 

Picard hew to summon him, and in a few moments the 
discomfited bully made his appearance ; pale from abject 
terror, with teeth chattering and limbs trembling, as 
he was ushered into- the dread presence of his angry 
lord. In spite of his efforts to assume the sang-froid he 
was so far from feeling, he staggered like a drunken man, 
though he had not drank enough wine that day to 
drown a fly, and did not dare to lift his eyes to his 
master’s face. 

“ Well, you cowardly beast,” said Vallombreuse an- 
grily, “how long, pray, are you going to stand there 
speechless, like a stupid fool, with that hang-dog air, as if 
you already had the rope that you so richly deserve round 
your wicked neck ? ” 

“I only awaited your lordship’s orders, ' stammered 


LAMPOURDK S DELICACY. 


353 


Merindol, trying to appear at ease, and failing lament- 
ably. “ My lord duke knows that I am entirely devoted 
to his service— even to being hanged, if it seems good to 
your lordship.” 

“ Enough of that cant ! ” interrupted the duke impa- 
tiently. Didn’t I charge you to have that cursed de 
Sigognac, otherwise Captain Fracasse, cleared out of my 
way ? You have not done it — my orders have not been 
obeyed. It is worth while, upon my word, to keep con- 
founded hired rascals to do such w^ork for me, at this 
rate ! All that you are good for is to stuff yourself in the 
kitchen, you dastardly beast, and to guzzle my good wine 
from morning until night. But I’ve had enough of this, 
by Jove ! and if there is not a change, and that without any 
further loss of time, to the hangman you shall go — do you 
hear? Just as sure as you stand there, gaping like a 
drivelling idiot.” 

“ My lord duke,” said Merindol, in a trembling voice, 
“ is unjust to his faithful servant, who desires nothing but 
to do his lord’s bidding. But this Baron de Sigognac is 
not to be disposed of so easily as my lord believes. Nev- 
er was there a braver, more fearless man. In our first at- 
tack on him, at Poitiers, he got the better of us in a most 
wonderful way — we never saw the like of it — and all he 
had to fight with was a dull, rusty sword, not intended for 
use at all ; a theatre sword, just for looks. And when 
we tried to do for him here in Paris, the very night he 
got here, it all came to naught, because he was so watch- 
ful, and somehow suspected what we were up to, and was 
ready for us ; and that upset our beautiful little plan en- 
tirely. I never was so surprised in my life ; and there 
was nothing for us to do, the whole four of us, but to get 
out of his sight as fast as we could, and he standing there 


354 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


laughing at us. Oh ! he’s a rare one, is Captain Fra- 
casse ! And now he knows my face, so I can’t go near 
him myself. But I have engaged the services of a par- 
ticular friend of mine — the bravest man and the best 
fighter in Paris — he hasn’t his equal in the world with the 
sword, they all say. He is lying in wait for him on the 
Pont-Neuf now, at this very moment, and there’ll be no 
mistake this time. Lampourde will be sure to despatch 
him for us — if it is not done already — and that without 
the slightest danger of your lordship’s name being mixed 
up with the affair in any way, as it might have been if 
your lordship’s own servants had done it.” 

‘‘The plan is not a bad one,” said the young duke, 
somewhat mollified, “ and perhaps it is better that it 
should be done in that way. But are you really sure of 
the courage and skill of this friend of yours ? He will 
need both to get the better of that confounded de Sigognac, 
who is no coward, and a master hand with the sword, I 
am bound to acknowledge, though I do hate him like the 
devil.” 

“ My lord need have no fears,” said Merindol, enthu- 
siastically, being now more at his ease. “ Jacquemin Lam- 
pourde is a hero, a wonder, as everybody will tell your 
lordship. He is more valiant than Achilles, or the great 
Alexander. He is not spotless certainly, like the Chev- 
alier Bayard, but he is fearless.” 

Picard, who had been hovering about for a few min- 
utes in an uneasy way, now seeing that his master was in 
abetter humor, approached and told him that a very odd- 
looking man was below, who asked to see him immedi- 
ately on most important business. 

“You may bring him in,” said the duke, “but just 
warn him, Picard, that if he dares to intrude upon me for 


LAMPO URDKS DELICA CY. 355 

any trifling matter, I’ll have him skinned alive before I 
let him go.” 

Merindol was just about leaving the room, when the 
entrance of the new comer rooted him to the spot ; he 
was so astonished and alarmed that he could not move 
hand or foot. And no wonder, for it was no other than 
the hero whose name he had just spoken — Jacquemin 
Lampourde in person — and the bare fact of. his having 
dared to penetrate so boldly into the dread presence of 
that high and mighty seignior, the Duke of Vallombreuse, 
ignoring entirely the agent through whom his services had 
been engaged, showed of itself that something very ex- 
traordinary must have taken place. 

Lampourde himself did not seem to be in the least dis- 
concerted, and after winking at his friend furtively in a 
very knowing way, stood unabashed before the duke, 
with the bright light of the many wax candles shining 
full upon his face. There was a red mark across his 
forehead, where his hat had been pressed down over it, 
and great drops of sweat stood on it, as if he had been 
running fast, or exercising violently. His eyes, of a 
bluish gray tint, with a sort of metallic lustre in them, 
were fixed upon those of the haughty young nobleman, with 
a calm insolence that made Merindol’s blood run cold in 
his veins ; his large nose, whose shadow covered all 
one side of his face, as the shadow of Mount Etna covers 
a considerable portion of the island of Sicily, stood out 
prominently, almost grotesquely, in profile ; his mous- 
tache, with its long stiff points carefully waxed, which pro- 
duced exactly the effect of an iron skewer stuck through 
his upper lip, and the “ royal ” on his chin curled upward, 
like a comma turned the wrong way, all contributed to 
make up a very extraordinary physiognomy, such as cari- 


356 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


caturists dote on. He wore a large scarlet cloak, wrapped I 
closely about his erect, vigorous form, and in one hand, 
which he extended towards the duke, he held suspended * 
a well filled purse — a strange and mysterious proceeding ? 
which Merindol could by no means understand. 

“ Well, you rascal,” said the duke, after staring for a Jj 
moment in astonishment at this odd looking specimen, ( 
“ what does this mean ? Are you olfering alms to me, | 
pray, or what ? with your purse there held out at arm’s ! 
length, apparently for my acceptance.” / 

“ In the first place, my lord duke,” said Lampourde, 1 
with perfect sang-froid and gravity, “ May it not dis- ^ 
please your highness, but I am not a rascal. My name 
is Jacquemin Lampourde, and I ply the sword for a 
living. My profession is an honorable one. I have ». 
never degraded myself by taking part in trade of any v 
kind, or by manual labor. Killing is my business, at 
the risk of my own life and limb — for I always do my ^ 
work alone, unaided, armed only with my trusty sword. 
Fair play is a jewel, and I would scorn to take a mean 
advantage of anybody. I always give warning before I ’ 
attack a man, and let him have a chance to defend him- ( 
self — having a horror of treachery, and cowardly, sneak- i 
ing ways. What profession could be more noble than c 
mine, pray ? I am no common, brutal assassin, my lord ) 
duke, and I beseech your lordship to take back that | 
offensive epithet, which I could never accept, save in a | 
friendly, joking way — it outrages too painfully the sensi- i 
tive delicacy of my amour-propre^ my lord ! ” I 

“ Very well, so be it, Maitre Jacquemin Lampourde, f 
since you desire it,” answered Vallombreuse, very much 1 
amused at the oddity of his strange visitor. “ And now I 
have the goodness to explain your business here, with a ft 


LAMPO URDE'S DELICA CY, 357 

purse in your hand, that you certainly appear to be 
steadily offering to me.” 

Jacquemin, satisfied by this concession to his suscepti- 
bility, suddenly jerked his head forward, without bending 
his body, while he waved the hat that he held slowly to 
and fro, making, according to his ideas, a salute that 
was a judicious mingling of the soldier’s and the courtier’s 
— which ceremony being concluded, he proceeded as 
follows with his explanation : 

“ Here is the whole thing in a nutshell, my lord duke ! 
I received from Merindol — acting for your lordship — 
part payment in advance for despatching a certain Baron 
de Sigognac, commonly called Captain Fracasse. On 
account of circumstances beyond my control, I have 
not been able to finish the job, and as I am a great 
stickler for honesty, and honor also, I have hastened to 
bring back to you, my lord duke, the money that I did 
not earn.” 

With these words he advanced a step, and with a 
gesture that was not devoid of dignity, gently laid the 
purse down on a beautiful Florentine mosaic table, that 
stood at the duke’s elbow. 

“ Verily,” said Vallombreuse sneeringly, “we seem to 
have here one of those droll bullies who are good for 
naught but to figure in a comedy ; an ass in a lion’s 
skin, whose roar is nothing worse than a bray. Come, 
my man, own up frankly that you were afraid of that 
same de Sigognac.” 

“ Jacquemin Lampourde has never been afraid of any- 
body in his life,” the fighting man replied, drawing him- 
self up haughtily, “ and no adversary has ever seen his 
back. Those who know me will tell your lordship that 
easy victories have no charm for me. I love danger and 


358 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


court it. I take positive delight in it. I attacked the j 

Baron de Sigognac '' secundum artem^ and with one of ; 

my very best swords — made by Alonzo de Sahagun, the 
elder, of Toledo.” I 

“ Well, and what happened then ? ” said the young 
duke eagerly. “ It would seem that you could not have ' 

been victorious, since you wish to refund this money, ■ 

which was to pay you for despatching him.” 

“ First let me inform your highness that in the course 
of my duels and combats, of one sort and another, I have 
left no less that thirty-seven men stretched dead upon 
the ground — and that without counting in all those I 
have wounded mortally, or crippled for life. But this | 
Baron de Sigognac intrenched himself within a circle of « 
flashing steel as impenetrable as the walls of a granite j 
fortress. I called into requisition all the resources of my j 
art against him, and tried in every possible way to sur- j 
prise him off his guard, but he was ready for everything ^ 
— as quick as a flash, as firm as a rock — he parried every 
thrust triumphantly, magnificently, with the most con- | 
summate science, and a grace and ease I have never seen j 
equalled. He kept me busy defending myself too all the J 
time, and more than once had nearly done for me. His I 
audacity was astonishing, his sang-froid superb, and j 
his perfect mastery over his sword, and his temper, j 
sublime — he was not a man, but a god. I could have 
fallen down and worshipped him. At the risk of being j 
spitted on his sword, I prolonged the fight as much as I 
dared, so as to enjoy his marvellous, glorious, unparal- ; 
lelled method to the utmost. However, there had to be 
an end of it, and I thought I was sure of despatching 
him at last by means of a secret I possess — an infallible 
and very difficult thrust, taught and bequeathed to me 


LA MPO URDE' S DELICA CY, 359 

by the great Girolamo of Naples, my beloved master — no 
man living has a knowledge of it but myself — there is no 
one else left capable of executing it to perfection, and 
upon that depends its success. Well, my lord duke, 
Girolamo himself could not have done it better than I did 
to-night, I was thunderstruck when my opponent did 
not go down before it as if he had been shot. I expected 
to see him lying dead at my feet. But not at all, by 
Jove ! That devil of a Captain Fracasse parried my 
blow with dazzling swiftness, and with such force that 
my blade was broken short off, and I left completely 
at his mercy, with nothing but the stump in my hand. 
See here, my lord duke ! just look what he did to my 
precious, priceless Sahagun.” And Jacquemin Lam- 
pourde, with a piteous air, drew out and exhibited the 
sorry remains of his trusty sword — almost weeping over 
it — and calling the duke’s attention to the perfectly 
straight and even break. 

Your highness can see that it was a prodigious blow 
that snapped this steel like a pipe-stem, and it was done 
with such ease and precision. To despatch Captain 
Fracasse by fair means is beyond my skill, my lord duke, 
and I would scorn to resort to treachery. Like all truly 
brave men, he is generous. I was left entirely defenceless, 
and he could have spitted me like an ortolan just by ex- 
tending his arm, but he refrained ; he let me go un- 
scathed. A miraculous display of delicacy, as well as 
chivalrous generosity, from a gentleman assaulted in the 
gloaming on the Pont-Neuf. I owe my life to him, and 
moreover, such a debt of gratitude as I shall never be 
able to repay. I cannot undertake anything more against 
him, my lord duke ; henceforth he is sacred to me. Be- 
sides, it would be a pity to destroy such a swordsman — 


360 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


good ones are rare in these degenerate days, and growing 
more so every year. I don’t believe he has his equal on 
earth. Most men handle a sword as if it were a broom- 
stick now-a-days, and then expect to be praised and 
applauded — the clumsy, stupid fools ! Now, I have given 
my reasons for coming to inform your highness that I 
must resign the commission I had accepted. As for the 
money there, I might perhaps have been justified in 
keeping it, to indemnify me for the great risk and peril 
I incurred, but such a questionable proceeding would be 
repugnant to my tender conscience and my honest pride, 
as your highness can understand.” 

“ In the name of all the devils in the infernal regions, 
take back your money ! ” cried Vallombreuse impetu- 
ously, “ or I will have you pitched out of the window 
yonder, you and your money both. I never heard of 
such a scrupulous scoundrel in my life. You, Merindol, 
and your cursed crew, have not a spark of honor or 
honesty among you all ; far enough from it.” Then 
perceiving that Lampourde hesitated about picking up 
the purse, he added, “ Take it, I tell you ! I give it to 
you to drink my health with.” 

‘‘ In that, my lord duke, you shall be religiously 
obeyed,” Lampourde replied joyfully ; “ however, I do 
not suppose that your highness will object to my dedi- 
cating part of it to lansquenet.” And he stretched out 
his long arm, seized the purse, and with one dexterous 
movement, like a juggler, chucked it jingling into the 
depths of his pocket. 

“ It is understood then, my lord duke, that I retire from 
the affair so far as the Baron de Sigognac is concerned,” 
continued Lampourde, “ but, if agreeable to your high- 
ness, it will be taken in hand by my ''alter ego, the 


LAMPOURDE'S DELICACY. 


361 


Chevalier Malartic, who is worthy to be intrusted with 
the most delicate and hazardous enterprises, because of 
his remarkable adroitness and superior ability ; and he is 
one of the best fellows in the world into the bargain. I 
had sketched out a scheme for the abduction of the 
young actress, in whom your highness condescends to 
take an interest, which Malartic will now carry out, with 
all the wonderful perfection of detail that characterizes 
his clever way of doing things. Merindol here, who 
knows him, will testify to his rare qualifications, my lord 
duke, and you could not find a better man for your pur- 
pose. I am presenting a real, treasure to your lordship 
in tendering Malartic’s services. When he is wanted 
your highness has only to send a trusty messenger to 
mark a cross in chalk on the left-hand door-post of the 
Crowned Radish. Malartic will understand, and repair 
at once, in proper disguise, to this house, to receive your 
lordship’s last orders.” 

Having finished this triumphant address, Maitre Jac- 
quemin Lampourde again saluted the duke as before, 
then put his hat on his head and stalked majestically out 
of the room, exceedingly well satisfied with his own elo- 
quence, and what he considered courtly grace, in the 
presence of so illustrious a nobleman. His oddity and 
originality, together with his strange mingling of lofty 
notions of honor and rascality, had greatly amused and 
interested the young Duke of Vallombreuse, who was 
even willing to forgive him for not having despatched de 
Sigognac ; for, if even this famous professional duellist 
could not get the better of him, he really must be invin- 
cible, and in consequence the thought of his own defeat 
became less galling and intolerable to his pride and 
vanity. Moreover, he had not been able to get rid of an 
16 


362 


CAPTAm FRACASSE. 


uncomfortable consciousness, even in his most angry 
mood, that his endeavoring to compass de Sigognac’s 
assassination was rather too great an enormity, not on 
account of any conscientious scruples, but simply be- 
cause his rival was a gentleman ; he would not have 
hesitated a second about having half-a-dozen bourgeois 
murdered, if they had been rash or unfortunate enough 
to interfere with him, the blood of such base, ignoble 
creatures being of no more consequence in his eyes than 
so much water. Vallombreuse would have liked to des- 
patch his enemy himself in honorable combat, but that 
was rendered impossible by the baron’s superior ability 
as a swordsman, of which he still had a painful reminder 
in his wounded arm ; which was scarcely healed yet, and 
would prevent his indulging in anything like a duel for 
some time to come. So his thoughts turned to the 
abduction of the young actress ; a pleasanter subject to 
dwell upon, as he felt not the slightest doubt that once 
he had her to himself, separated from de Sigognac and 
her companions, she would not long be able to withstand 
his eloquent pleading and personal attractions. His self- 
conceit was boundless, but not much to be wondered at, 
considering his invariable and triumphant success in 
affairs of gallantry ; so, in spite of his recent repulse, 
he flattered himself that he only required a fitting 
opportunity to obtain from Isabelle all that he de- 
sired. 

“ Let me have her for a few days in some secluded 
place,” said he to himself, “ where she cannot escape 
from me, or have any intercourse with her friends, and I 
shall be sure to win her heart. I shall be so kind and 
good and considerate to her, treat her with so much deli- 
cacy and devotion, that she cannot help feeling grateful 


LAMPOURDES DELICACY. 


363 


to me ; and then the transition to love will be easy and 
natural. But when once I have won her, made her 
wholly mine, then she shall pay dearly for what she has 
made me suffer. Yes, my lady, I mean to have my 
revenge — you may rest assured of that.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


MALARTIC AT WORK. 

If the Duke of Vallomb reuse had been furious after 
his unsuccessful visit to Isabelle, the Baron de Sigognac 
was not less so, when, upon his return that evening, he 
learned what had taken place during his absence. The 
tyrant and Blazius were almost obliged to use force to 
prevent his rushing off, without losing a minute, to chal- 
lenge the duke to mortal combat — a challenge sure to be 
refused ; for de Sigognac, being neither the brother nor 
husband of the injured fair one, had no earthly right to 
call any other gentleman to account for his conduct 
towards her ; in France all men are at liberty to pay 
their court to every pretty woman. 

As to the attack upon the baron on the Pont-Neuf, 
there could be no doubt that it was instigated by the 
Duke of Vallombreuse ; but how to prove it ? that was 
the difficulty. And even supposing it could be proved, 
what good would that do ? In the eyes of the world 
the Baron de Sigognac, who carefully concealed his real 
rank, was only Captain Fracasse, a low play-actor, upon 
whom a great noble, like the Duke of Vallombreuse, 
had a perfect right to inflict a beatings imprisonment, or 
even assassination, if it so pleased him ; and that without 
incurring the blame, or serious disapproval, of his friends 
and equals. 

f So far as Isabelle was concerned, if the affair were 
364 


MALARTIC AT WORK. 


365 


made public, nobody would believe that she was really 
pure and virtuous — the very fact of her being an actress 
was enough to condemn her — for her sake it was impor- 
tant to keep the matter secret if possible. So there was 
positively no means of calling their enemy to account 
for his flagrant misdeeds, though de Sigognac, who was 
almost beside himself with rage and indignation, and 
burning to avenge Isabelle’s wrongs and his own, swore 
that he would punish him, even if he had to move heaven 
and earth to compass it. Yet, when he became a little 
calmer, he could not but acknowledge that Herode and 
Blazius were right in advising that they should all re- 
main perfectly quiet, and feign the most absolute indif- 
ference ; but at the same time keep their eyes and ears 
very wide open, and be unceasingly on their guard 
against artful surprises, since it was only too evident that 
the vindictive young duke, who was handsome as a god 
and wicked as the devil, did not intend to abandon his 
designs upon them ; although thus far he had failed igno- 
miniously in everything he had undertaken against them. 

A gentle, loving remonstrance from Isabelle, as she 
held de Sigognac’s hands, all hot and trembling with 
suppressed rage, between her own soft, cool palms, and 
caressingly interlaced her slender white fingers with his, 
did more to pacify him than all the rest, and he finally 
yielded to her persuasions ; promising to keep quiet him- 
self, and allow things to go on just as usual. 

Meantime the representations of the troupe had met 
with splendid success. Isabelle’s modest grace and 
refined beauty, Serafina’s more brilliant charms, the 
soubrettes sparkling vivacity and bewitching coquetry, 
the superb extravagances of Captain Fracasse, the ty- 
rant’s majestic mien, Leander’s manly beauty, the gro- 


366 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


tesque good humor of the pedant, Scapin’s spicy devil- 
tries, and the duenna’s perfect acting had taken Paris 
by storm, and their highest hopes were likely to be 
realized. Having triumphantly won the approbation of 
the Parisians, nothing was wanting but to gain also that 
of the court, then at Saint Germain, and a rumor had 
reached their ears that they were shortly to be sum- 
moned thither ; for it was asserted that the king, having 
heard such favorable reports of them, had expressed a de- 
sire to see them himself. Whereat Herode, in his char- 
acter of treasurer, greatly rejoiced, and all felt a pleasant 
excitement at the prospect of so distinguished an honor. 
Meanwhile the troupe was often in requisition to give 
private representations at the houses of various people of 
rank and wealth in Paris, and it quickly became the 
fashion among them to offer this very popular style of 
entertainment to their guests. 

Thus it befell that the tyrant, being perfectly accus- 
tomed to that sort of thing, was not at all surprised, or 
suspicious of evil, when one fine morning a stranger, of 
most venerable and dignified mien, presented himself at 
the hotel in the Rue Dauphine, and asked to speak with 
him on business. He appeared to be the major-domo, 
or steward, of some great nobleman’s establishment, and, 
in effect, announced to Herode that he had been sent to 
consult with him, as manager of the troupe, by his master, 
the Comte de Pommereuil. 

This highly, respectable old functionary was richly 
dressed in black velvet, and had a heavy gold chain 
round his neck. His face was slightly sunburnt ; the 
wavy hair that fell upon his shoulders, his thick, bushy 
eyebrows, heavy moustache, and long, sweeping beard 
were all white as snow. He had the most patriarchal, 


MALAR TIC AT WORK. 


367 


benevolent air imaginable, and a very gentle, yet digni- 
fied manner. The tyrant could not help admiring him 
very much, as he said, courteously, “ Are you, sir, the 
famous Herode I am in quest of, who rules with a hand 
as firm as Apollo’s the excellent company of comedians 
now playing in Paris ? Their renown has gone abroad, 
beyond the walls of the city, and penetrated even to my 
master’s ears, on his estate out in the country.” 

“Yes, I have the honor to be the man you seek,” the 
tyrant answered, bowing^very graciously. 

“ The Comte de Pommereuil greatly desires to have 
you give one of your celebrated representations at his 
chateau, where guests of high rank are sojourning at this 
moment, and I have come to ascertain whether it will be 
possible for you to do so. The distance is not very con- 
siderable, only a few leagues. The comte, my master, is 
a very great and generous seignior, who is prepared to 
reward your illustrious company munificently for their 
trouble, and will do everything in his power to make 
them comfortable while they are under his roof.” 

“ I will gladly do all that I can to please your noble 
master,” the tyrant replied, “ though it will be a little 
difficult for us to leave Paris at present, just in the height 
of the season ; even if it be only for a short absence.” 

“ Three days would suffice for this expedition,” said 
the venerable major-domo persuasively ; “ one for the 
journey, the second for the representation, and the third 
for the return to Paris. There is a capital theatre at the 
chateau, furnished with everything that is requisite, so 
that you need not be encumbered with much luggage — 
nothing beyond your costumes. Here is a purse con- 
taining a hundred pistoles that the Comte de Pomme- 
reuil charged me to put into your hands, to defray the 


368 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


expenses of the journey. You will receive as much more 
before you return, and there will be handsome presents 
for the actresses forthcoming, of valuable jewels, as souve- 
nirs of the occasion.” 

After a momentary hesitation, the tyrant accepted the 
well-filled purse tendered to him, and, with a gesture of 
acquiescence, put it into his pocket. 

“ I am to understand then that you accept, and I may 
tell my master that you will give a representation at the 
chateau, as he desires ? ” 

“ Yes, I place myself and my company at his disposi- 
tion,” Herode said, smilingly. “And now let me know 
what day you want us to go, and which of our pieces 
your master prefers.” 

“ Thursday is the day my master designated ; as for 
selecting the play, that he leaves to your own good taste 
and discretion.” 

“ Very well ; and now you have only to give me di- 
rections as to the road we must take to reach the chateau. 
Be as explicit as you can, I pray you, so that there may 
be no danger of our going astray.” 

The agent of the Comte de Pommereuil accordingly 
gave the most minute and exact directions possible, but 
ended by saying, “ Never mind, you need not burden 
your memory with all these troublesome details ! I will 
send you a lackey to serve as guide.” 

Matters being thus satisfactorily arranged, the charm- 
ing old major-domo took leave of Herode, who accom- 
panied him down the stairs and across the court to the 
outer door of the hotel, and departed, looking back to 
exchange a last polite sign of farewell ere he turned the 
corner of the street. If the honest tyrant could have 
seen him as he walked briskly away, the moment he was 


MALAR TIC AT WORK. 


369 


J ' safely out of sight, he would have been astonished at the 
f way the broad, stooping shoulders straightened themselves 
I up, and at the rapid, vigorous step that succeeded to 
the slow, rather infirm gait of his venerable visitor — but 
these things our worthy Herode neither saw nor suspected. 

On Wednesday morning, as the comedians were finish- 
ing the packing of their chariot, which stood ready for 
departure in the courtyard of the hotel, with a pair of 
fine spirited horses before it that the tyrant had hired for 
the journey, a tall, rather fierce-looking lackey, dressed 
in a neat livery and mounted on a stout pony, presented 
himself at the outer door, cracking his whip vigorously, 
and announcing himself as the guide, sent according to 
promise by the considerate major-domo, to conduct them 
to the Chateau de Pommereuil. 

Eight clear strokes rang out from the Samaritan just 
as the heavy vehicle emerged into the Rue Dauphine, 
and our company of players set forth on their ill-fated 
expedition. In less than half an hour they had left the 
■ Porte Saint Antoine and the Bastille behind them, passed 
through the thickly settled faubourg and gained the open 
country ; advancing towards Vincennes, which they could 
distinguish in the distance, with its massive keep partially 
veiled by a delicate blue mist, that was rapidly dispers- 
I ing under the influence of the bright, morning sunshine. 

As the horses were fresh, and travelled at a good pace, 

; they soon came up with the ancient fortress — which was 
1' still formidable in appearance, though it could not have 
offered any adequate resistance to the projectiles of mod- 
ern artillery. The gilded crescents on the minarets of the 
' chapel built by Pierre de Montereau shone out brightly, 

' as if joyous at finding themselves in such close proximity 
to the cross — the sign of redemption. After pausing a 
16* 


370 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


few minutes to admire this monument of the ancient 
splendor of our kings, the travellers entered the forest, 
where, amid the dense growth of younger trees, stood a few 
majestic old oaks — cotemporaries doubtless of the one 
under which Saint Louis, that king of blessed memory, 
used to sit and dispense justice to his loyal subjects in 
person — a most becoming and laudable occupation for a 
monarch. 

The road was so little used that it was grass-grown in 
many places, and the chariot rolled so smoothly and 
noiselessly along over it that they occasionally surprised 
a party of rabbits frolicking merrily together, and were 
very much amused to see them scamper away, in as great 
a hurry as if the hounds were at their heels. Further on 
a frightened deer bounded across the road in front of 
them, and they could watch its swift, graceful flight for 
some distance amid the leafless trees. The young baron 
was especially interested in all these things, being coun- 
try-bred, and it was a delight unspeakable to him to see 
the fields, the hedgerows, the forest, and the wild creatures 
of the wood once more. It was a pleasure he had been 
deprived of ever since he had frequented cities and towns, 
where there is nothing to look at but dingy houses, mud- 
dy streets and smoky chimneys — the works of man not 
of God. He would have pined in them for the fresh 
country air if he had not had the sweet companionship 
of the lovely woman he adored ; in whose deep, blue eyes 
he saw a whole heaven of bliss. 

Upon emerging from the wood the road wound up a . 
steep hill-side, so the horses were stopped, to rest a few 
minutes before beginning the ascent, and de Sigognac, 
profiting by the opportunity thus afforded him, said to 
Isabelle, “ Dear heart, will you get down and walk a lit- 


MALAR TIC AT IVORK. 


3;i 

tie way with me ? You will find it a pleasant change and 
rest after sitting still in the chariot so long. The road is 
smooth and dry, and the sunshine deliciously warm — do 
come ! ” 

Isabelle joyfully acceded to this request, and putting 
her hand into the one extended to help her, jumped lightly 
down. It was a welcome means of according an inno- 
cent tete-a-tete to her devoted lover, and both felt as if 
they were treading on air, they were so happy to find 
themselves alone together, as, arm in arm, they walked 
briskly forward, until they were out of sight of their com- 
panions. Then they paused to look long and lovingly 
into each other’s eyes, and de Sigognac began again to 
pour out to Isabelle “ the old, old story,” that she was 
never weary of hearing, but found more heavenly sweet 
at every telling. They were like the first pair of mortal 
lovers in Paradise, entirely sufficient to and happy in each 
other. Yet even then Isabelle gently checked the pas- 
sionate utterances of her faithful suitor, and strove to 
moderate his rapturous transports, though their very 
fervor made her heart rejoice, and brought a bright flush 
to her cheeks and a happy light to her eyes that rendered 
her more adorably beautiful than ever. 

“ Whatever you may do or say, my darling,” he an- 
swered, with a sweet, tender smile, you will never be 
able to tire out my constancy. If need be, I will wait for 
you until all your scruples shall have vanished of them- 
selves — though it be not till these beautiful, soft brown 
tresses, with their exquisite tinge of gold where the sun 
shines on them, shall have turned to silver.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried Isabelle, “ I shall be so old and so ugly 
then that even your sublime courage will be daunted, and 
I fear that in rewarding your perseverance and fidejity by 


372 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


the gift of myself I should only be punishing my devoted 
knight and brave champion.” j 

“You will never be ugly, my beloved Isabelle, if you 
live to be a hundred,” he replied, with an adoring glance, j 
“ for yours is not the mere physical beauty, that fades j 
away and vanishes — it is the beauty of the soul, which is j 
immortal.” I 

“ All the same you would be badly off,” rejoined Isa- \ 
belle, “ if I were to take you at your word, and promise to 
be yours when I was old and gray. But enough of this 
jesting,” she continued gravely, “let us be serious ! You 
know my resolution, de Sigognac, so try to content your- 
self with being the object of the deepest, truest, most de- ' 
voted love that was ever yet bestowed on mortal man 
since hearts began to beat in this strange world of ours.” 

“ Such a charming avowal ought to satisfy me, I admit, 
but it does not ! My love for you is infinite — it can 
brook no bounds — it is ever increasing — rising higher and 
higher, despite your heavenly voice, that bids it keep 
within the limits you have fixed for it.” 

“ Do not talk so, de Sigognac ! you vex me by such 
extravagances,” said Isabelle, with a little pout that was 
as charming as her sweetest smile ; for in spite of herself 
her heart beat high with joy at these fervent protestations 
of a love that no coldness could repel, no remonstrance 
diminish. 

They walked on a little way in silence — de Sigognac 
not daring to say more then, lest he should seriously dis- 
please the sweet creature he loved better than his own 
life. Suddenly she drew her arm out of his, and with an 
exclamation of^ delight, sprang to a little bank by the 
road-side, where she had spied a tiny violet, peeping out 
from ^mid the dead leaves that had lain there all the 


MALARTIC AT WORK. 


373 


winter through — the first harbinger of spring, smiling up 
at her a friendly greeting, despite the wintry cold of 
February, She knelt down and gently cleared away the 
dry leaves and grass about it, carefully broke the frail 
little stem, and returned to de Sigognac’s side with her 
treasure — more delighted than if she had found a pre- 
cious jewel lying hidden among the mosses. 

“Only see, how exquisitely beautiful and delicate it 
is” — said she, showing it to him — “with its dear little 
petals scarcely unrolled yet to return the greeting of this 
bright, warm sunshine, that has roused it from its long 
winter sleep.” 

“ It was not the sunshine, however bright and warm,” 
answered de Sigognac, “ but the light of your eyes, 
sweet Isabelle, that made it open out to greet you — and 
it is exactly the color too of those dear eyes of yours.” 

“ It has scarcely any fragrance, but that is because it’s 
so cold,” said Isabelle, loosening her scarf, and putting it 
carefully inside the ruff that encircled her slender, white 
neck. In a few minutes she took it ouf again, inhaled 
its' rich perfume, pressed it furtively to her lips, and of- 
fered it to de Sigognac. 

“ See how sweet it is now ! The warmth I imparted 
to it has reassured the little modest, timid blossom, and it 
breathes out its incomparable fragrance in gratitude to 
me.” 

“Say rather that it has received it from you,” he re- 
plied, raising the violet tenderly to his lips, and taking 
from it the kiss Isabelle had bestowed — “ for this deli- 
cate, delicious odor has nothing gross or earthly about it 
— it is angelically pure and sweet, like yourself, my own 
Isabelle.” 

“Ah ! the naughty flatterer,” said she, smiling upon 


374 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


him with all her heart in her eyes. “ I give him a little 
flower that he may enjoy its perfume, and straightway 
he draws from it inspiration for all sorts of high-flown 
conceits, and fine compliments. There’s no doing any- 
thing with him — to the simplest, most commonplace re- 
mark he replies with a poetical flight of fancy.” 

However, she could not have been very seriously dis- 
pleased, for she took his arm again, and even leaned 
upon it rather more heavily than the exigencies of the 
way actually required ; which goes to prove that the pur- 
est virtue is not insensible to pretty compliments, and 
that modesty itself knows how to recompense delicate 
flattery. 

Not far from the road they were travelling stood a 
small group of thatched cottages — scarcely more than 
huts — whose inhabitants were all afield at their work, ex- 
cepting a poor blind man, attended by a little ragged boy, 
who sat on a stone by the wayside, apparently to solicit 
alms from those who passed by. Although he seemed to 
be extremely aged and feeble, he was chanting a sort of 
lament over his misfortunes, and an appeal to the charity 
of travellers, in a loud, whining, yet vigorous voice ; 
promising his prayers to those who gave him of their 
substance, and assuring them that they should surely go 
to Paradise as a reward for their generosity. For some 
time before they came up with him, Isabelle and de 
Sigognac had heard his doleful chant — much to the an- 
noyance of the latter ; for when one is listening, en- 
tranced, to the sweet singing of the nightingale, it is sorely 
vexatious to be intruded upon by the discordant croak- 
ing of a raven. As they drew near to the poor old blind 
man, they saw his little attendant bend down and whisper 
in his ear, whereupon he redoubled his groans and 


MALARTIC AT WORK. 


375 


supplications — at the same time holding out towards 
them a small wooden bowl, in which were a few coppers, 
and shaking it, so as to make them rattle as loudly as 
possible, to attract their attention. He was a venerable 
looking old man, with a long white beard, and seemed 
to be shivering with cold, despite the great, thick, woolen 
cloak in which he was wrapped. The child, a wild look- 
ing little creature, whose scanty, tattered clothing was 
but a poor protection against the stinging cold, shrunk 
timidly from notice, and tried to hide himself behind his 
aged charge. Isabelle’s tender heart was moved to pity at 
the sight of so much misery, and she stopped in front of 
the forlorn little group while she searched in her pocket 
for her purse— not finding it there she turned to her com- 
panion and asked him to lend her a little money for the 
poor, old, blind beggar, which the baron hastened to do 
— though he was thoroughly out of patience with his 
whining jeremiads — and, to prevent Isabelle’s coming in 
actual contact with him, stepped forward himself to de- 
posit the coins in his wooden bowl. Thereupon, instead 
of tearfully thanking his benefactor and invoking bless- 
ings upon his head, after the usual fashion of such 
gentry, the blind man — to Isabelle’s inexpressible alarm 
— suddenly sprang to his feet, and straightening himself 
up with a jerk, opened his arms wide, as a vulture spreads 
its wings for flight, gathered up his ample cloak about 
his shoulders with lightning rapidity and flung it from 
him with a quick, sweeping motion like that with which 
the fisherman casts his net. The huge, heavy mantle 
spread itself out like a dense cloud directly above de Sigog- 
nac, and falling over and about him enveloped him from 
head to foot in its long, clinging folds, held firmly down 
by the lead with which its edges were weighted — making 


376 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


him a helpless prisoner — depriving him at once of sight 
and breath, and of the use of his hands and feet. The 
young actress, wild with terror, turned to fly and call for 
help, but before she could stir, or utter a sound, a hand 
was clapped over her mouth, and she felt herself lifted 
from the ground. The old blind beggar, who, as by a 
miracle, had suddenly become young and active, and 
possessed of all his faculties, had seized her by the shoul- 
ders, while the boy took her by the feet, and they carried 
her swiftly and silently round a clump of bushes near by 
to where a man, on horseback and masked, was waiting 
for them. Two other men, also mounted and masked, 
and armed to the teeth, “were standing close at hand, be- 
hind a wall that prevented their being seen from the 
road. Poor Isabelle, nearly fainting with fright, was 
lifted up in front of the first horseman, and seated on a 
cloak folded so as to serve for a cushion ; a broad leather 
strap being passed round her waist, which also encircled 
that of the rider, to hold her securely in her place. All 
this was done with great rapidity and dexterity, as if her 
captors were accustomed to such manoeuvres, and then 
the horseman, who held her firmly with one hand, shook 
his bridle with the other, drove his spurs into the horse’s 
sides, and was off like a flash — the whole thing being 
done in less time than it takes to describe it. Meanwhile 
de Sigognac was struggling fiercely and wildly under the 
heavy cloak that enveloped him — like a gladiator en- 
tangled in his adversary’s net — beside himself with rage 
and despair, as he gasped for breath in his stifling prison, 
and realized that this diabolical outrage must be the 
work of the Duke of Vallombreuse. Suddenly, like an 
inspiration, the thought flashed into his mind of using 
his dagger to free himself from the thick, clinging folds, 


MALARTIC AT WORK, 


177 


that weighed him down like the leaden cloaks of the 
wretched condemned spirits we read of with a shudder in 
Dante’s Inferno. With two or three strong, quick strokes 
he succeeded in cutting through it, and casting it from 
him, with a fierce imprecation, perceived Isabelle’s ab- 
ductors, still near at hand, galloping across a neighboring 
field, and apparently making for a thick grove at a con- 
siderable distance from where he was standing. As to 
the blind beggar and the child, they had disappeared — 
probably hiding somewhere near by — but de Sigognac 
did not waste a second thought on them ; throwing off 
his own cloak, lest it should impede him, he started 
swiftly in pursuit of the flying enemy and their fair prize, 
with fury and despair in his heart. He was agile and 
vigorous, lithe of frame, fleet of foot, the very figure for 
a runner, and he quickly began to gain on the horsemen. 
As soon as they became aware of this one of them drew 
a pistol from his girdle and fired at their pursuer, but 
missed him ; whereupon de Sigognac, bounding rapidly 
from side to side as he ran, made it impossible for them 
to take aim at him, and effectually prevented their ar- 
resting his course in that way. The man who had Isa- 
belle in front of him tried to ride on in advance, and 
leave the other two to deal with the baron, but the young 
actress struggled so violently on the horse’s neck, and 
kept clutching so persistently at the bridle, that his rider 
could not urge him to his greatest speed. Meantime de 
Sigognac was steadily gaining upon them ; without slack- 
ening his pace he had managed to draw his sword from 
the scabbard, and brandished it aloft, ready for action, as 
he ran. It is true that he was one against three — that he 
was on foot while they were on horseback— but he had 
not time to consider the odds against him, and he seemed 


378 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


possessed of the strength of a giant in Isabelle’s behalf. 
Making a prodigious effort, he suddenly increased his 
speed, and coming up with the two horsemen, who were 
a little behind the other one, quickly disposed of them, 
by vigorously pricking their horses’ flanks with the point 
of his sword ; for, what with fright and pain, the animals, 
after plunging violently, threw off all restraint and bolted 
— dashing off across country as if the devil were after 
them, and carrying their riders with them, just as de Sigog- 
nac had expected and intended that they should do. The 
brave young baron was nearly spent — panting, almost 
sobbing, as he struggled desperately on — feeling as if his 
heart would burst at every agonizing throb ; but he was 
indued with supernatural strength and endurance, and as 
Isabelle’s voice reached his ear, calling, “ Help, de Si- 
gognac, help ! ” he cleared with a bound the space that 
separated them, and leaping up to catch the broad leathern 
strap that was passed round her and her captor, answered 
in a hoarse, shrill tone, “I am here.” Clinging to the 
strap, he ran along beside the galloping horse — like the 
grooms that the Romans called “ desultores ” — and strove 
with all his might to pull the rider down out of his sad- 
dle. He did not dare to use his sword to disable him, 
as they struggled together, lest he should wound Isabelle 
also ; and, meantime, the man on horseback was trying 
his utmost to shake off his fierce assailant — unsuccess- 
fully, because he had both hands fully occupied with his 
horse and his captive, who was doing all she could to 
slip from his grasp, and throw herself into her lover’s 
arms. Loosing his hold on the rein for a second, the 
horseman managed to draw a knife from his girdle, and 
with one blow severed the strap to which the baron was 
clinging ; then, driving his spurs into the horse’s sides, 


MALARTIC AT WORK, 


379 


made the frightened animal spring suddenly forward, 
while de Sigognac — who was not prepared for this emer- 
gency, and found himself deprived of all support — fell 
violently upon his back in the road. He was up again 
in an instant, and flying after Isabelle, who was now be- 
ing borne rapidly away from him, and whose cries for 
help came more and more faintly to his ear ; but the mo- 
ment he had lost made his pursuit hopeless, and he knew 
that it was all in vain when he saw her disappear behind 
the thicket her ravisher had been aiming for from the 
first. His heart sank within him, and he staggered as he 
still ran feebly on — feeling now the effects of his super- 
human exertions, and fearing at each step that his feet 
would carry him no further. He was soon overtaken by 
Herode and Scapin, who, alarmed by the pistol shot, 
and fearing that something was wrong, had started in hot 
pursuit, though the lackey who served them as guide had 
done all that he possibly could to hinder them, and in a 
few faltering words he told them what had occurred. 

- “ Vallomb reuse again ! " cried the tyrant, with an oath. 
“ But how the devil did he get wind of our expedition to 
the Chateau de Pommereuil ? or can it be possible that 
it was all a plot from the beginning, and we are bound 
on a fool’s errand ? I really begin to think it must be so. 
If it is true, I never saw a better actor in my life than that 
respectable old major-domo, confound him ! But let 
us make haste and search this grove thoroughly ; we may 
find some trace of poor Isabelle ; sweet creature that she 
is ! Rough old tyrant though I be, my heart warms to 
her, and I love her more tenderly than I do myself. 
Alas ! I’m afraid that this poor, innocent, little fly is 
caught in the toils of a cruel spider, who will take care 
never to let us get sight of her again.” 


38 o 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


“ I will crush him,” said de Sigognac, striking his heel 
savagely on the ground, as if he actually had the spider 
under it. “ I will crush the life out of him, the venomous 
beast ! ” and the fierce, determined expression of his usu- 
ally calm, mild countenance showed that this was no idle 
threat, but that he was terribly in earnest. 

“Look,” cried Herode, as they dashed through the 
thicket, “ there they are ! ” 

They could just discern, through the screen of leafless 
but thickly interlaced branches, a carriage, with all the 
curtains carefully closed, and drawn by four horses 
lashed to a gallop, which was rapidly rolling away from 
them in the distance. The two men whose horses had 
run away with them had them again under control, and 
were riding on either side of it — one of them leading the 
horse that had carried Isabelle and her captor. He was 
doubtless mounting guard over her in the carriage — per- 
haps using force to keep her quiet — at thought of which 
de Sigognac could scarcely control the transport of rage 
and agony that shook him. Although the three pursuers 
followed the fugitives, as fast as they could run, it was all 
of no avail, for they soon lost sight of them altogether, 
and nothing remained to be done but to ascertain, if pos- 
sible, the direction they had taken, so as to have some 
clue to poor Isabelle’s whereabouts. They had consider- 
able difficulty in making out the marks of the carriage 
wheels, for the roads were very dry ; and when at length 
they had succeeded in tracing them to a place where four 
roads met they lost them entirely — it was utterly impos- 
sible to tell which way they had gone. After a long and 
fruitless search they turned back sorrowfully to rejoin 
their companions, trying to devise some plan for Isabelle’s 
rescue, but feeling acutely how hopeless it was. They 


MALARTIC AT WORK. 


381 


found the others in the chariot waiting for them, just 
where the tyrant and Scapin had left them, for their false 
guide had put spurs to his horse and ridden off after his 
confederates, as soon as he became aware that their un- 
dertaking had proved successful. When Herode asked 
an old peasant woman, who came by with a bundle of 
fagots on her back, how far it was to the Chateau de 
Pommereuil, she answered that there was no place of that 
name anywhere in the country round. Upon being 
questioned closely, she said that she had lived in the 
neighborhood for seventy years, knew every house within 
many leagues, and could positively assure them that there 
was no such chateau within a day’s journey. So it 
was only too evident that they were the dupes of the 
clever agents of the Duke of Vallombreuse, who had at 
last succeeded in getting possession of Isabelle, as he had 
sworn that he would do. Accordingly, all of the party 
turned back towards Paris, excepting de Sigognac, the 
tyrant and Scapin, who had decided to go on to the next 
village, where they hoped to be able to procure horses, 
with which to prosecute their search for Isabelle and her 
abductors. 

After the baron’s fall,' she had been swiftly taken on to 
the other side of the thicket, where the carriage stood 
awaiting her ; then lifted down from the horse and put 
into it, in spite of her frantic struggles and remonstrances. 
The man who had held her in front of him got down also 
and sprang in after her, closing the door with a bang, and 
instantly they were off at a tremendous pace. He seated 
himself opposite to her, and when she impetuously tried 
to pull aside the curtain, so that she could see out of the 
window nearest to her, he respectfully but firmly re- 
strained her. 


382 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


Mademoiselle, I implore you to keep quiet,” he said, 
with the utmost politeness, “ and not oblige me to use 
forcible means to restrain su charming and adorable a 
creature as your most lovely self. No harm shall come 
to you — do not be afraid !--only kindness is intended ; 
therefore I beseech you do not persist in vain resistance. 
If you will only submit quietly, you shall be treated with 
as much consideration and respect as a captive queen, 
but if you go on acting like the devil, struggling and 
shrieking, I have means to bring you to terms, and I shall 
certainly resort to them. This will stop your scream- 
ing, mademoiselle, and this will prevent your strug- 
gling.” 

As he spoke he drew out of his pocket a small gag, 
very artistically made, and a long, thick, silken cord, 
rolled up into a ball. 

“ It would be barbarous indeed,” he continued, “ to 
apply such a thing as this to that sweet, rosy mouth of 
yours, mademoiselle, as I am sure that you will admit— 
or to bind together those pretty, delicate, little wrists, 
upon which no worse fetters than diamond bracelets 
should ever be placed.” 

Poor Isabelle, furious and frightened though she was, 
could not but acknowledge to herself that further physi- 
cal resistance then would be worse than useless, and 
determined to spare herself at least such indignities as 
she was at that moment threatened with ; so, without 
vouchsafing a word to her attendant, she threw herself 
back into the corner of the carriage, closed her eyes, 
and tried to keep perfectly still. But in spite of her 
utmost endeavors she could not altogether repress an 
occasional sob, nor hold back the great tears that welled 
forth from under her drooping eyelids and rolled down 


MALARTIC AT WORK. 


383 


over her pale cheeks, as she thought of de Sigognac’s 
despair and her own danger. 

“ After the nervous excitement comes the moist stage 
said her masked guardian to himself, “ things are follow- 
ing their usual and natural course. I am very glad of it, 
for I should have greatly disliked to be obliged to act a 
brutal part with such a sweet, charming girl as this.” 

Now and then Isabelle opened her eyes and cast a 
timid glance at her abductor, who finally said to her, in 
a voice he vainly strove to render soft and mild : 

“ You need not be afraid of me, mademoiselle ! I 
would not harm you in any way for the world. If fortune 
had been more generous to me I certainly would never 
have undertaken this enterprise against such a lovely, 
gentle young lady as you are ; but poor men like me are 
driven to all sorts of expedients to earn a little money ; 
Aey have to take whatever comes within their reach, and 
sacrifice their scruples to their necessities.” ' 

“ You do admit then,” said Isabelle vehemently, “that 
you have been bribed to carry me off ? An infamous, 
cruel, outrageous thing it is.” 

“After what I have had to do,” he replied, “it would 
be idle to deny it. There are a good many philosophers 
like myself in Paris, mademoiselle, who, instead of in- 
dulging in love affairs, and intrigues of various sorts, of 
their own, interest themselves in those of other people, 
and, for a consideration, make use of their courage, in- 
genuity and strength to further them. But to change 
the subject, how charming you were in that last new 
play ! You went through the scene of the avowal with 
a grace I have never seen equalled. I applauded you to 
the echo ; the pair of hands that kept it up so persever- 
ingly and vigorously, you know, belonged to me.” 


384 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


‘‘ I beg you to dispense with these ill-judged remarks 
and compliments, and to tell me where you are taking 
me, in this strange, outrageous manner, against my will, 
and in despite of all the ordinary usages of civilized 
society.” 

“ I cannot tell you that, mademoiselle, and besides, it 
would do you no sort of good to know. In our profes- 
sion, you see, we are obliged to observe as much secrecy 
and discretion as confessors and physicians. Indeed, in • 
such affairs as this we often do not know the names of 
the parties we are working for ourselves.” 

“ Do you mean to say that you do not know who has 
employed you to commit this abominable, cruel crime ? ” 

“ It makes no difference whether I know his name or 
not, since I am not at liberty to disclose it to you. Think 
over your numerous admirers, mademoiselle ! the most 
ardent and least favored one among them would probably 
be at the bottom of all this.” 

Finding that she could not get any information from 
him, Isabelle desisted, and did not speak again. She 
had not the slightest doubt that the Duke of Vallomb reuse 
was the author of this new and daring enterprise. The 
significant and threatening way. in which he had said 
au revoir^ mademoiselle^" as he quitted her presence 
after she had repulsed him a few days before, had 
haunted her, and she had been in constant dread ever 
since of some new outrage. She hoped, against hope, 
that de Sigognac, her valiant lover, would yet come to 
her rescue, and thought proudly of the gallant deeds 
he had already done in her behalf that day — but how 
was he to find out where to seek her ? 

“If worst comes to worst,” she said to herself, “I 
still have Chiquita’s knife, and I can and will escape 


MALAR TIC AT WORK. 385 

from my persecutor in that way, if all other means 
fail.” 

For two long hours she sat motionless, a prey to sad 
and terrible thoughts and fears, while the carriage rolled 
swiftly on, without slackening speed, save once, for a 
moment, when they changed horses. As the curtains 
were all lowered, she could not catch even a glimpse of 
the country she was passing through, nor tell in what di- 
rection she was being driven. At last she heard the hol- 
low sound of a drawbridge under the wheels ; the car- 
riage stopped, and her masked companion, promptly 
opening the door, jumped nimbly out and helped her to 
alight. She cast a hurried glance round her, as she 
stepped down, saw that she was in a large, square court, 
and that all the tall, narrow windows in the high brick 
walls that surrounded it had their inside shutters care- 
fully closed. The stone pavement of the spacious court- 
yard was in some places partly covered with moss, and a 
few weeds had sprung up in the corners, and along the 
edges by the walls. At the foot of a broad, easy flight 
of steps, leading up to a covered porch, two majes- 
tic Egyptian sphinxes lay keeping guard ; their huge 
rounded flanks mottled here and there with patches of 
moss and lichens. Although the large chateau looked 
lonely and deserted, it had a grand, lordly air, and 
seemed to be kept in perfect order and repair. Isa- 
belle was led up the steps and into the vestibule by the 
man who had brought her there, and then consigned to 
the care of a respectable-looking major-domo, who pre- 
ceded her up a magnificent staircase, and into a suite of 
rooms furnished with the utmost luxury and elegance. 
Passing through the first — which was enriched with fine 
old carvings in oak, dark with age — he left her in a spa- 
17 


386 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


cious, admirably proportioned apartment, where a cheery 
wood fire was roaring up the huge chimney, and she 
saw a bed in a curtained alcove. She chanced to catch 
sight of her own face in the mirror over an elaborately 
furnished dressing-table, as she passed it, and was star- 
tled and shocked at its ghastly pallor and altered expres- 
sion ; she scarcely could recognize it, and felt as if she 
had seen a ghost— poor Isabelle ! Over the high, richly 
ornamented chimney-piece hung a portrait of a gentle- 
man, which, as she approached the fire, at once caught 
and riveted her attention. The face seemed strangely 
familiar to her, and yet she could not remember where 
she had seen it before. It was pale, with large, black 
eyes, full red lips, and wavy brown hair, thrown carelessly 
back from it — apparently the likeness of a man about 
forty years of age — and it had a charming air of nobility 
and lofty pride, tempered with benevolence and tender- 
ness, which was inexpressibly attractive. The portrait 
was only half-length — the breast being covered with a 
steel cuirass, richly inlaid with gold, which was partly 
concealed by a white scarf, loosely knotted over it. Isa- 
belle, despite her great alarm and anxiety, could not long 
withdraw her eyes or her thoughts from this picture, 
which seemed to exert a strange fascination over her. 
There was something about it that at the first glance re- 
sembled the Duke of Vallombreuse, but the expression 
was so different that the likeness disappeared entirely 
upon closer examination. It brought vague memories to 
Isabelle’s mind that she tried in vain to seize — she felt 
as if she must be looking at it in a dream. She was still 
absorbed in reverie before it when the major-domo re- 
appeared, followed by two lackeys, in quiet livery, carry- 
ing a small table set for one person, which they put down 


MALAR TIC AT WORK. 


387 


near the fire ; and as one of them took the cover off an 
old-fashioned, massive silver tureen, he announced to 
Isabelle that her dinner was ready. The savory odor 
from the smoking soup was very tempting, and she was 
very hungry ; but after she had mechanically seated her- 
self and dipped her spoon into the broth, it suddenly oc- 
curred to her that the food might contain a narcotic — 
such things had been done — and she pushed away the 
plate in front of her in alarm. The major-domo, who 
was standing at a respectful distance watching her, 
ready to anticipate her every wish, seemed to divine her 
thought, for he advanced to the table and deliberately 
partook of all the viands upon it, as well as of the wine 
and water — as if to prove to her that there was nothing 
wrong or unusual about them. Isabelle was somewhat 
reassured by this, and feeling that she would probably 
have need of all her strength, did bring herself to eat 
and drink, though very sparingly. Then, quitting the 
table, she sat down in a large easy-chair in front of the 
fire to think over her terrible position, and endeavor to 
devise some means of escape from it. When the servants 
had attended to their duties and left her alone again, she 
rose languidly and walked slowly to the window — feeling 
as weak as though she had had a severe illness, after the 
violent emotions and terrors of the day, and as if she had 
aged years in the last few hours. Could it be possible 
that only that very morning she and de Sigognac had 
been walking together, with hearts full of happiness and 
peace — and she had rapturously hailed the appearance 
of the first spring violet as an omen of good, and gath- 
ered the sweet little blossom to bestow upon the devoted 
lover who adored her ? And now, alas ! alas ! they were 
as inexorably and hopelessly separated as if half the 


388 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


globe lay between them. No wonder that her breast 
heaved tumultuously with choking sobs, and hot tears 
rained down over her pallid cheeks, as she wept convul- 
sively at the thought of all she had lost. But she did not 
long indulge her grief — she remembered that at any mo- 
ment she might have need of all her coolness and forti- 
tude — and making a mighty effort, like the brave heroine 
that she was, she regained control over herself, and drove 
back the gushing tears to await a more fitting season. 
She was relieved to find that there were no bars at the 
window, as she had feared ; but upon opening the case- 
ment and leaning out she saw immediately beneath her a 
broad moat, full of stagnant water, which surrounded the 
chateau, and forbade any hope of succor or escape on 
that side. Beyond the moat was a thick grove of large 
trees, which entirely shut out the view ; and she returned 
to her seat by the fire, more disheartened and cast down 
than ever. She was very nervous, and trembled at the 
slightest sound — casting hasty, terrified glances round 
the vast apartment, and dreading lest an unseen door in 
some shadowy corner should be softly opened, or a hid- 
den panel in the wall be slipped aside, to admit her re- 
lentless enemy to her presence. She remembered all the 
horrible tales she had ever heard of secret passages and 
winding staircases in the walls, that are supposed to 
abound in ancient castles ; and the mysterious visitants, 
both human and supernatural, that are said to be in the 
habit of issuing from them, in the gloaming, and at mid- 
night. As the twilight deepened into darkness, her terror 
increased, and she nearly fainted from fright when a ser- 
vant suddenly entered with lights. 

Whilst poor Isabelle was suffering such agony in one 
part of the chateau, her abductors were having a grand 


MALARTIC AT WORK. 


389 


carouse in another. They were to remain there for a 
while as a sort of garrison, in case of an attack by de 
Sigognac and his friends ; and were gathered round the 
table in a large room down on the ground floor — as re- 
mote as possible from Isabelle’s sumptuous quarters. 
They were all drinking like sponges, and making merry 
over their wine and good cheer, but one of them espe- 
cially showed the most remarkable and astounding pow- 
ers of ingurgitation — it was the man who had carried off 
the fair prize before him on his horse ; and, now that the 
mask was thrown aside, he disclosed to view the deathly 
pale face and fiery red nose of Malartic, bosom friend 
and alter ego'' of Maitre Jacquemin Lampourde. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


VALLOMBREUSE. 

Isabelle sat for a long time perfectly motionless in 
her luxurious chamber, sunk in a sad reverie, apparently 
entirely oblivious of the glow of light, warmth, and com- 
fort that closed her in — glancing up occasionally at the 
portrait over the chimney-piece, which seemed to be 
smiling down upon her and promising her protection and 
peace, whilst it more than ever reminded her of some 
dear face she had known and loved long ago. After a 
time, however, her mood changed. She grew restless, 
and rising, began to wander aimlessly about the room ; 
but her uneasiness only increased, and finally, in des- 
peration, she resolved to venture out into the corridor 
and look about her, no matter at what risk. Anything 
would be better than this enforced inactivity and sus- 
pense. She tried the door with a trembling hand, dread- 
ir)g to find herself locked in, but it was not fastened, 
and seeing that all was dark outside, she took up a small 
lamp, that had been left burning on a side table, and 
boldly setting forth, went softly down the long flight of 
stairs, in the hope of finding some means of exit from 
the chateau on the lower floor. At the foot of the stairs 
she came to a large double door, one leaf of which 
yielded easily when she timidly tried to open it, but 
creaked dolefully as it turned on its hinges. She hesi- 
tated for a moment, fearing that the noise would alarm 

390 


i 


VALLOMBREUSE. 


391 


the servants and bring them out to see what was amiss ; 
but no one came, and taking fresh courage, she moved 
on and passed into a lofty, vaulted hall, with high-backed, 
oaken benches ranged against the tapestry-covered walls, 
upon which hung several large trophies of arms, and 
sundry swords, shields, and steel gauntlets, which caught 
and flashed back the light from her lamp as she held 
it up to examine them. The air was heavy, chilly, and 
damp. An awful stillness reigned in this deserted hall. 
Isabelle shivered as she crept slowly along, and nearly 
stumbled against a huge table, with massive carved feet, 
that stood in the centre of the tesselated marble pave- 
ment. She was making for a door, opposite the one by 
which she had entered ; but, as she approached it, was 
horror-stricken when she perceived two tall men, clad in 
armor, standing like sentinels, one on either side of it. 
She stopped short, then tried to turn and fly, but was so 
paralyzed with terror that she could not stir, expecting 
every instant that they would pounce upon her and take 
her prisoner, while she bitterly repented her temerity 
in having ventured to leave her own room, and vainly 
wished herself back by the quiet fireside there. Mean- 
while the two dread figures stood as motionless as her- 
self — the silence was unbroken, and “ the beating of her 
own heart was the only sound she heard.” So at last 
she plucked up courage to look more closely at the grim 
sentinels, and could not help smiling at her own needless 
alarm, when she found that they were suits of armor, in- 
deed, but without men inside of them — just such as one 
sees standing about in the ancient royal palaces of France. 
Passing them with a saucy glance of defiance, and a lit- 
tle triumphant toss of the head, Isabelle entered a vast 
dining room, with tall, sculptured buffets, on which stood 


392 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


many superb vessels of gold and silver, together with 
delicate specimens of exquisite Venetian and Bohemian 
glass, and precious pieces of fine porcelain, fit for a king’s 
table. Large handsome chairs, with carved backs, were 
standing round the great dining-table, and the walls, 
above the heavy oaken wainscot, were hung with richly 
embossed Cordova leather, glowing with warm, bright 
tints and golden arabesques. 

She did not linger to examine and admire all the 
beautiful things dimly revealed to her by the feeble light 
of her small lamp, but hurried on to the third door, which 
opened into an apartment yet more spacious and mag- 
nificent than the other two. At one end of it was a 
lordly dais, raised three steps above the inlaid floor, upon 
which stood a splendid great arm-chair, almost a throne, 
under a canopy emblazoned with a brilliant coat of arms 
and surmounted by a tuft of nodding plumes. Still hur- 
rying on, Isabelle next entered a sumptuous bed-chamber, 
and, as she paused for an instant to hold up her lamp 
and look about her, fancied that she could hear the regu- 
lar breathing of a sle.eper in the immense bed, behind 
the crimson silk curtains which were closely drawn 
around it. She did not dare to stop and investigate the 
matter, but flew on her way, as lightly as any bird, and 
next found herself in a library, where the white busts 
surmounting the well-filled book-cases stared down at 
her with their hard, stony eyes, and made her shudder as 
she nervously sought for an exit, without delaying one 
moment to glance at the great variety of curious and 
beautiful objects scattered lavishly about, which, un- 
der any ordinary circumstances, would have held her 
enthralled. 

Running at right angles with the library, and opening 


VA LL OMBRE USE. 


393 


out of it, was the picture gallery, where the family por- 
traits were arranged in chronological order on one side, 
whilst opposite to them was a long row of windows, look- 
ing into the court. The shutters were closed, but near 
the top of each one was a small circular opening, 
through which the moon shone and faintly lighted the 
dusky gallery, striking here and there directly upon the 
face of a portrait, with an indescribably weird and 
startling elfect. It required all of Isabelle’s really 
heroic courage to keep on past the long line of strange 
faces, looking down mockingly it seemed to her from 
their proud height upon her trembling form as she glided 
swiftly by, and she was thankful to find, at the end of 
the gallery, a glass door opening out upon the court. It 
was not fastened, and after carefully placing her lamp in 
a sheltered corner, where no draughts could reach it, she 
stepped out under the stars. It was a relief to find 
herself breathing freely in the fresh, pure air, though she 
was actually no less a prisoner than before, and as she 
stood looking up into the clear evening sky, and think- 
ing of her own true lover, she seemed to feel new cour- 
age and hope springing up in her heart. 

In one corner of the court she saw a strong light 
shining out through the crevices in the shutters that 
closed several low windows, and heard sounds of rev- 
elry from the same direction — the only signs of life she 
had detected about the whole place. Her curiosity was 
excited by them, and she stole softly over towards the 
quarter from whence they came, keeping carefully in the 
shadow of the wall, and glancing anxiously about to make 
sure that no one was furtively watching her. Finding a 
considerable aperture in one of the wooden shutters she 
peeped through it, and saw a party of men gathered around 

17* 


394 


CAPTAIN FRA CAS SE. 


a table, eating and drinking and making merry in a very 
noisy fashion. The light from a lamp with three burn- 
ers, which was suspended by a copper chain from the 
low ceiling, fell full upon them, and although she had 
only seen them masked before, Isabelle instantly rec- 
ognized those who had been concerned in her abduc- 
tion. At the head of the table sat Malartic, whose ex- 
traordinary face was paler and nose redder than ever, 
and at sight of whom the young girl shuddered and drew 
back. When she had recovered herself a little, she looked 
in again upon the repulsive scene, and was surprised to see, 
at the other end of the table, and somewhat apart from 
the others, Agostino, the brigand, who had now laid 
aside the long white beard in which he had played the part 
of the old blind beggar so successfully. A great deal of 
loud talking was going on, constantly interrupted by bursts 
of laughter, but Isabelle could not hear distinctly enough 
through the closed window to make out what they were 
saying. Even if she had been actually in the room with 
them, she would have found much of their conversation 
incomprehensible, as it was largely made up of the ex- 
traordinary slang of the Paris street Arabs and rascals 
generally. From time to time one or the other of the 
participants in this orgy seemed to propose a toast, 
whereupon they would all clink their glasses together 
before raising them to their lips, drain them at a draught, 
and applaud vociferously, while there was a constant draw- 
ing of corks and placing of fresh bottles on the table by 
the servant who was waiting upon them. Just as Isa- 
belle, thoroughly disgusted with the brutality of the scene 
before her, was about to turn away, Malartic rapped 
loudly on the table to obtain a hearing, and after mak- 
ing a proposition, which met with ready and cordial as- 


V A LL OMBRE USE, 


395 


sent, rose from his seat, cleared his throat, and began to 
sing, or rather shout, a ribald song, all the others joining 
in the chorus, with horrible grimaces and gesticulations, 
which so frightened poor Isabelle that she could scarcely 
find strength to creep away from the loathsome spec- 
tacle. 

Before re-entering the house she went to look at the 
drawbridge, with a faint hope that she might chance 
upon some unexpected means of escape, but all was 
secure there, and a little postern, opening on the moat, 
which she discovered near by, was also carefully fast- 
ened, with bolts and bars strong enough to keep out an 
army. As these seemed to be the only means of exit 
from the chateau, she felt that she was a prisoner indeed, 
and understood why it had not been deemed necessary 
to lock any of the inner doors against her. She walked 
slowly back to the gallery, entered it by the glass door, 
found her lamp burning tranquilly just where she had left 
it, retraced her steps swiftly through the long suite of spa- 
cious apartments already described and flew up the grand 
staircase to her own room, congratulating herself upon 
not having been detected in her wanderings. She put 
her lamp down in the antechamber, but paused in terror 
on the threshold of the inner room, stifling a shriek that 
had nearly escaped her as she caught sight of a strange, 
wild figure crouching on the hearth. But her fears were 
short lived, for with an exclamation of delight the in- 
truder sprang towards her and she saw that it was Chi- 
quita — but Chiquita in boy’s clothes. 

“ Have you got the knife yet ? ” said the strange little 
creature abruptly to Isabelle — “the knife with three 
bonny red marks.” 

“Yes, Chiquita, I have it here in my bosom,” she 


396 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


replied. “ But why do you ask ? Is my life in dan- 
ger?” 

“ A knife,” said the child with fierce, sparkling eyes, 
“ a knife is a faithful friend and servant ; it never betrays 
or fails its master, if he is careful to give it a drink now 
and then — for a knife is often thirsty you know.” 

“ You frighten me, you naughty child ! ” exclaimed 
Isabelle, much troubled and agitated by these sinister, 
extravagant words, which perhaps, she thought, might be 
intended as a friendly warning. 

“ Sharpen the edge on the marble of the chimney- 
piece, like this,” continued Chiquita, “ and polish the 
blade on the sole of your shoe.” 

‘‘ Why do you tell me all this ? ” cried Isabelle, turning 
very pale. 

“ For nothing in particular, only he who would defend 
himself gets his weapons ready — that’s all.” 

These odd, fierce phrases greatly alarmed Isabelle, yet 
Chiquita’s presence in her room was a wonderful relief 
and comfort to her. The child apparently cherished a 
warm and sincere affection for her, which was none the 
less genuine because of its having arisen from such a 
trivial incident — for the pearl beads were more precious 
than diamonds to Chiquita. She had given a voluntary 
promise to Isabelle never to kill or harm her, and with 
her strange, wild, yet exalted notions of honor she looked 
upon it as a solemn obligation and vow, by which she 
must always abide — for there was a certain savage nobil- 
ity in Chiquita’s character, and she could be faithful un- 
to death. Isabelle was the only human being, except- 
ing Agostino, who had been kind to her. She had 
smiled upon the unkempt child, and given her the cov- 
eted necklace, and Chiquita loved her for it, while she 


VALLOMBREUSE. 


397 


adored her beauty. Isabelle’s sweet countenance, so an- 
gelically mild and pure, exercised a wonderful influence 
over the neglected little savage, who had always been 
surrounded by fierce, haggard faces, expressive of every 
evil passion, and disfigured by indulgence in the lowest 
vices, and excesses of every kind. 

“ But how does it happen that you are here, Chiquita ? ” 
asked Isabelle, after a short silence. “ Were you sent to 
keep guard over me ? ” 

“ No, I came alone and of my own accord,” answered 
Chiquita, “ because I saw the light and fire. I was tired 
of lying all cramped up in a corner, and keeping quiet, 
while those beastly men drank bottle after bottle of wine, 
and gorged themselves with the good' things set before 
them. I am so little, you know, so young and slender, 
that they pay no more attention to me than they would 
to a kitten asleep under the table. While they were 
making a great noise I slipped quietly away unperceived. 
The smell of the wine and the food sickened me. I am 
used to the sweet perfume of the heather, and the pure 
resinous odor of the pines. I cannot breathe in such an 
atmosphere as there is down below there.” 

“ And you were not afraid to wander alone, without a 
light, through the long, dark corridors, and the lonely, 
deserted rooms ? ” 

“ Chiquita does not know what it is to be afraid — her 
eyes can see in the dark, and her feet never stumble. 
The very owls shut their eyes when they meet her, and 
the bats fold their wings when she comes near their 
haunts. Wandering ghosts stand aside to let her pass, 
or turn back when they see her approaching. Night is 
her comrade and hides no secrets from her, and Chiquita 
never betrays them to the day.” 


398 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


Her eyes flashed and dilated as she spoke, and Isabelle 
looked at her with growing wonder, not unmixed with a 
vague sensation of fear, 

“ I like much better to stay here, in this heavenly quiet, 
by the fire with you,” continued the child, “ than down 
there in all the uproar. You are so beautiful that I love 
to look at you — you are like the Blessed Virgin that I 
have seen shining above the altar. Only from afar 
though, for they always chase me out of the churches 
with the dogs, because I am so shabby and forlorn. How 
white your hand is ! Mine looks like a monkey’s paw 
beside it — and your hair is as fine and soft as silk, while 
mine is all rough and tangled. Oh! I am so horribly 
ugly — you must think so too.” 

“ No, my dear child,” Isabelle replied, touched by her 
naive expressions of affection and admiration, “ I do not 
think so. You have beauty too, — you only need to make 
yourself neat and clean to be as pretty a little girl as one 
would wish to see.” 

“ Do you really think so ? Are you telling me true ? 
I would steal fine clothes if they would make me pretty, 
for then Agostino would love me.” 

This idea brought a little flush of color to her thin 
brown cheeks, and for a few minutes she seemed lost in 
a pleasant reverie. 

“ Do you know where we are ? ” asked Isabelle, when 
Chiquita looked up at her again. 

“ In a chateau that belongs to the great seignior who 
has so much money, and who wanted to carry you off at 
Poitiers. I had only to draw the bolt and it would 
have been done then. But you gave me the pearl neck- 
lace, and I love you, and I would not do anything you 
did not like.” 


V ALL OMBRE USE.. 3 99 

“Yet you have helped to carry me off this time,” said 
Isabelle reproachfully. “ Is it because you don’t love me 
any more that you have given me up to my enemies ? ” 

“ Agostino ordered me, and I had to obey ; besides, 
some other child could have played guide to the blind 
man as well as I, and then I could not have come into 
the chateau with you, do you see ?— here I may be able 
to do something to help you. I am brave, active and 
strong, though I am so small, and quick as lightning too 
— and I shall not let anybody harm you,” 

“ Is this chateau very far from Paris ? ” asked Isabelle, 
drawing Chiquita up on her lap. “ Did you hear any 
one mention the name of this place ? ” 

“ Yes, one of them called it — now what was it ?” said 
the child, looking up at the ceiling and absently scratch- 
ing her head, as if to stimulate her memory. 

“ Try to remember it, my child ! ” said Isabelle, softly 
stroking Chiquita’s brown cheeks, which flushed with de- 
light at the unwonted caress — no one had ever petted the 
poor child in her life before. 

“ I think that it was Val-lom-breuse,” said Chiquita 
at last, pronouncing the syllables separately and slowly, 
as if listening to an inward echo. “Yes, Vallombreuse, 

I am sure of it now. It is the name of the seignior that 
your Captain Fracasse wounded in a duel — he would 
have done much better if he had killed him outright — 
saved a great deal of trouble to himself and to you. He 
is very wicked, that rich duke, though he does throw his 
gold about so freely by the handfuls — just like a man 
sowing grain. You hate him, don’t you ? and you would 
be glad if you could get away from him, eh ? ” 

“Oh yes, ipdeed ! ” cried Isabelle impetuously. “ But 
alas ! it is impossible — a deep moat runs all around this 


400 


CdPTAIN FRACASSE. 


chateau — the drawbridge is up, the postern securely 
fastened — there is no way of escape.” 

“ Chiquita laughs at bolts and bars, at high walls and 
deep moats. Chiquita can get out of the best guarded 
prison whenever she pleases, and fly away to the moon, 
right before the eyes of her astonished jailer. If you 
choose, before the sun rises your Captain Fracasse shall 
know where the treasure that he seeks is hidden.” 

Isabelle was afraid, when she heard these incoherent 
phrases, that the child was not quite sane, but her little 
face was so calm, her dark eyes so clear and steady, her 
voice so earnest, and she spoke with such an air of quiet 
conviction, that the supposition was not admissible, and 
the strange little creature did seem to be possessed of 
some of the magic power she claimed. As if to, convince 
Isabelle that she was not merely boasting, she con- 
tinued, “ Let me think a moment, to make a plan — don’t 
speak nor move, for the least sound interferes with me — I 
must listen to the spirit.” 

Chiquita bent down her head, put her hand over her 
eyes, and remained for several minutes perfectly motion- 
less ; then she raised her head and without a word went 
and opened the window, clambered up on the sill, and 
gazed out intently into the darkness. 

“ Is she really going to take flight ? ” said Isabelle to her- 
self, as she anxiously watched Chiquita’s movements, not 
knowing what to expect. Exactly opposite to the win- 
dow, on the other side of the moat, was an immense tree, 
very high and old, whose great branches, spreading out 
horizontally, overhung the water ; but the longest of them 
did not reach the wall of the chateau by at least ten feet. 
It was upon this tree, however, that Chiquita’s plan for 
escape depended. She turned away from the window, 


VALLOMBRE USE. 


401 


drew from her pocket a long cord made of horse-hair, 
very fine and strong, which she carefully unrolled to its 
full length and laid upon the floor ; then produced from 
another pocket an iron hook, which she fastened securely 
to the cord. This done to her satisfaction, she went to 
the window again, and threw the end of the cord with the 
hook into the branches of the tree. The first time she 
was unsuccessful ; the iron hook fell and struck against 
the stone wall beneath the casement ; but at the second 
attempt the hook caught and held, and Chiquita, draw- 
ing the cord taut, asked Isabelle to take hold of it 
and bear her whole weight on it, until the branch was 
bent as far as possible towards the chateau — coming five 
or six feet nearer to the window where they were. Then 
Chiquita tied the cord firmly to the ornamental iron 
railing of the tiny balcony, with a 'knot that could not 
slip, climbed over, and grasping the cord with both hands, 
swung herself off, and hung suspended over the waters of 
the moat far below. Isabelle held her breath. With a 
rapid motion of the hands Chiquita crossed the clear 
space, reached the tree safely, and climbed down into it 
with the agility of a monkey. 

Now undo the knot so that I can take the cord with 
me,” she said, in a low but very distinct tone of voice 
to Isabelle, who began to breathe freely again, “ unless, 
indeed, you would like to follow me. But you would be 
frightened and dizzy, and might fall, so you had better 
stay where you are. Good bye ! I am going straight to 
Paris, and shall soon be back again ; I can get on quickly 
in this bright moonlight.” 

Isabelle did as she was bid, and the branch, being no 
longer held by the cord, swung back to its original posi- 
tion. In less than a minute. Chiquita had scrambled 


402 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


down to the ground, and the captive soon lost sight of 
her slender little figure as she walked off briskly towards 
the capital. 

All that had just occurred seemed like a strange dream 
to Isabelle, now that she found herself alone again. She 
remained for some time at the open casement, looking at 
the great tree opposite, and trembling as she realized the 
terrible risk Chiquita had run for her sake — feeling warm 
gratitude and tender affection for the wild, incompre- 
hensible little creature, who manifested such a strong 
attachment for herself, and a new hope sprang up in her 
heart as she thought that now de Sigognac would soon 
know where to find her. The cold night air at last 
forced her to close the window, and after arranging the 
curtains over it carefully, so as to show no signs of hav- 
ing been disturbed, she returned to her easy-chair by the 
fire ; and just in time, for she had scarcely seated herself 
when the major-domo entered, followed by the two ser- 
vants, again carrying the little table, set for one, with her 
supper daintily arranged upon it. A few minutes earlier 
and Chiquita’s escape would have been discovered and 
prevented. Isabelle, still greatly agitated by all that had 
passed, could not eat, and signed to the servants to 
remove the supper untouched. Whereupon the major- 
domo himself put some bread and wine on a small table 
beside the bed, and placed on a chair near the fire a 
richly trimmed dressing-gown, and everything that a lady 
could require in making her toilet for the night. Several 
large logs of wood were piled up on the massive andirons, 
the candles were renewed, and then the major-domo, 
approaching Isabelle with a profound obeisance, said to 
her that if she desired the services of a maid he would 
send one to her. As she made . a gesture of dissent he 


VALLOMBREUSE. 


403 


withdrew, after again bowing to her most respectfully. 
When they had all gone, Isabelle, quite worn out, threw 
herself down on the outside of the bed without undress- 
ing, so as to be ready in case of any sudden alarm in the 
night ; then took out Chiquita’s knife, opened it, and laid 
it beside her. Having taken these precautions, she closed 
her eyes, and hoped that she could for a while forget her 
troubles in sleep ; but she had been so much excited and 
agitated that her nerves were all quivering, and it was 
long before she even grew drowsy. There were so many 
strange, incomprehensible noises in the great, empty 
house to disturb an(J startle her ; and in her own room, 
the cracking of the furniture, the ticking of a death- 
watch in the wall near her bed, the gnawing of a rat be- 
hind the wainscot, the snapping of the fire. At each 
fresh sound she started up in terror, with her poor heart 
throbbing as if it would burst out of her breast, a cold 
perspiration breaking out on her forehead, and trembling 
in every limb. At last, however, weary nature had to 
succumb, and she fell into a deep sleep, which lasted 
until she was awakened by the sun shining on her face. 
Her first thought was to wonder that she had not yet 
seen the Duke of Vallomb reuse ; but she was thankful 
for his absence, and hoped that it would continue until 
Chiquita should have brought de Sigognac to the rescue. 

The reason why the young duke had not yet made his 
appearance was one of policy. He had taken especial 
pains to show himself at Saint Germain on the day of 
the abduction — had joined the royal hunting party, and 
been exceedingly and unwontedly affable to all who 
happened to come in contact with him. In the evening 
he had played at cards, and lost ostentatiously sums that 
would have been of importance to a less wealthy man— 


404 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


being all the time in a very genial mood — especially aftei 
the arrival of a mounted messenger, who brought him a 
little note. Thus the duke’s desire to be able to establish 
an incontestible alibi, in case of need, had spared Isa- 
belle thus far the infliction of his hated presence ; but 
while she was congratulating herself upon it, and wel- 
coming the sunshine that streamed into her room, she 
heard the drawbridge being let down, and immediately 
after a carriage dashed over it and thundered into the 
court. Her heart sank, for who would be likely to enter 
in that style save the master of the house ? Her face 
grew deathly pale, she reeled, and for one dreadful 
moment felt as if she should faint ; but, rallying her 
courage, she reminded herself that Chiquita had gone to 
bring de Sigognac to her aid, and determined afresh to 
meet bravely whatever trials might be in store for her, 
until her beloved knight and champion should arrive, to 
rescue her from her terrible danger and irksome im- 
prisonment. Her eyes involuntarily sought the portrait 
over the chimney-piece, and after passionately invoking 
it, and imploring its aid and protection, as if it had been 
her patron saint, she felt a certain sense of ease and 
security, as if what she had so earnestly entreated would 
really be accorded to her. 

A full hour had elapsed, which the young duke had 
employed in the duties of the toilet, and in snatching a 
few minutes of repose after his rapid night- journey, 
when the major-domo presented himself, and asked re- 
spectfully if Isabelle would receive the Duke of Val- 
lombreuse. 

“I am a prisoner,” she replied, with quiet dignity, 
“ and this demand, which would be fitting and polite in 
any ordinary case, is only a mockery when addressed to 


VA LL OMBRE USE. 


405 


one in my position. I have no means of preventing your 
master’s coming into this room, nor can I quit it to avoid 
him. I do not accept his visit — I submit to it. He mus: 
do as he pleases about it, and come and go when he likei^ 
He allows me no choice in the matter. Go and tell 
him exactly what I have said to you.” 

The major-domo bowed low, and retired backward to 
the door, having received strict orders to treat Isabelle 
with the greatest respect and consideration. In a few 
minutes he returned, and announced the Duke of Vallom- 
breuse. 

Isabelle half rose from her chair by the fire, but 
turned very pale and fell back into it, as her unwelcome 
visitor made his appearance at the door. He closed it 
and advanced slowly towards her, hat in hand, but when 
he perceived that she Was trembling violently, and looked 
ready to faint, he stopped in the middle of the room, 
made a low bow, and said in his most dulcet, persuasive 
tones : 

“ If my presence is too unbearably odious now to the 
charming Isabelle, and she would like to have a little time 
to get used to the thought of seeing me, I will withdraw. 
She is my prisoner, it is true, but I am none the less her 
slave.” 

“ This courtesy is tardy,” Isabelle replied coldly, 
“ after the violence you have made use of against me.” 

“ That is the natural result,” said the duke, with a 
smile, of pushing people to extremity by a too obstinate 
and prolonged resistance. Having lost all hope, they stop 
at nothing — knowing that they cannot make matters any 
worse, whatever they do. If you had only been willing 
to suffer me to pay my court to you in the regular way, 
and shown a little indulgence to my love, I should have 


4o6 


CAPTAIiV FRACASSE. 


quietly remained among the ranks of your passionate 
adorers ; striving, by dint of delicate attentions, chivalrous 
devotion, magnificent offerings, and respectful yet ardent 
solicitations, to soften that hard heart of yours. If I could 
not have succeeded in inspiring it with love for me, I might 
at least have awakened in it that tender pity w'hich is 
‘ akin to love,’ and which is so often only its forerunner. 
In the end, perhaps, you would have repented of your 
cruel severity, and acknowledged that you had been un- 
just towards me. Believe me, my charming Isabelle, 
I should have neglected nothing to bring it about.” 

“ If you had employed only honest and honorable 
means in your suit,” Isabelle rejoined, “I should have 
felt very sorry that I had been so unfortunate as to inspire 
an attachment I could not reciprocate, and would have 
given you my warm sympathy, and friendly regard, instead 
of being reluctantly compelled, by repeated outrages, to 
hate you instead.” 

“ You do hate me then ? — you acknowledge it ? ” the 
duke cried, his voice trembling with rage ; but he con- 
trolled himself, and after a short pause continued, in a 
gentler tone, “Yet I do not deserve it. My only wrongs 
towards you, if any there be, have come from the excess 
and ardor of my love ; and what woman, however chaste 
and virtuous, can be seriously angry with a gallant gen- 
tleman because he has been conquered by the power of 
her adorable charms ? whether she so desired or not.” 

“ Certainly, that is not a reason for dislike or anger, 
my lord, if the suitor does not overstep the limits of re- 
spect, as all women will agree. But when his insolent 
impatience leads him to commit excesses, and he resorts 
to fraud, abduction, and imprisonment, as you have not 
hesitated to do, there is no other result possible than an 


VALLOMBRE USE. 


407 


unconquerable aversion. Coercion is always and inevi- 
tably revolting to a nature that has any proper pride or 
delicacy. Love, true love, is divine, and cannot be fur- 
nished to order, or extorted by violence. It is sponta- 
neous, and freely given — not to be bought, nor yet won 
by importunity.” 

“ Is an unconquerable aversion then all that I am to 
expect from you ?” said Vallombreuse, who had become 
pale to ghastliness, and been fiercely gnawing his under 
lip while Isabelle was speaking, in her sweet, clear tones ; 
which fell on his ear like the soft chiming of silver bells, 
and only served to enhance his devouring passion. 

“ There is yet one means of winning my friendship 
and gratitude — be noble and generous, and give me back 
the liberty of which you have deprived me. Let me re- 
turn to my companions, who must be anxiously seeking 
for me, and suffering keenly because of their fears for 
my safety. Let me go and resume my lowly life as an 
actress, before this outrageous affair — which may irrepa- 
rably injure my reputation — has become generally known, 
or my absence from the theatre been remarked by the 
public.” 

“ How unfortunate it is,” cried the duke, angrily, “ that 
you should ask of me the only thing I cannot do for 
you. If you had expressed your desire for an empire, a 
throne, I would have given it to you — or if you had 
wished for a star, I would have climbed up into the 
heavens to get it for you. But here you calmly ask me 
to open the door of this cage, little bird, to which you 
would never come back of your own accord, if I were 
stupid enough to let you go. It is impossible ! I know 
well that you love me so little, or rather hate me so much, 
that you would never see me again of your own free will 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


40B 

—that my only chance of enjoying your charming soci- 
ety is to lock you up — keep you my prisoner. However 
much it may cost my pride, I must do it — for I can no 
more live without you than a plant without the light. 
My thoughts turn to you as the heliotrope to the sun. 
Where you are not, all is darkness for me. If what I 
have dared to do is a crime, 1 must make the best of it, and 
profit by it as much as I can — for you would never for- 
give nor overlook it, whatever you may say now. Here 
at least I have you — I hold you. I can surround you 
with my love and care, and strive to melt the ice of your 
coldness by the heat of my passion. Your eyes must be- 
hold me — your ears must listen to my voice. I shall ex- 
ert an influence over you, if only by the alarm and detes- 
tation I am so unfortunate as to inspire in your gentle 
breast ; the sound of my footsteps in your antecham- 
ber will make you start and tremble. And then, besides 
all that, this captivity separates you effectually from the 
miserable fellow you fancy that you love — and whom I 
abhor ; because he has dared to turn your heart away 
from me. I can at least enjoy this small satisfaction, of 
keeping you from him ; and I will not let you go free to 
return to him — you may be perfectly sure of that, my fair 
lady ! ” 

“ And how long do you intend to keep me captive — 
not like a Christian gentleman, but like a lawless cor- 
sair.” • 

“ Until you have learned to love me — or at least to say 
that you have, which amounts to the same thing.” 

Then he made her a low bow, and departed, with as 
self-satisfied and jaunty an air as if he had been in 
truth a favored suitor. Half an hour later a lackey 
brought in a beautiful bouquet, of the rarest and choic- 


VALLOMBREUSE. 


409 


est flowers, while the stems were clasped by a magnifi- 
cent bracelet, fit for a queen’s wearing. A little piece 
of folded paper nestled among the flowers — a note from 
the duke — and the fair prisoner recognized the handwrit- 
ing as the same in which “ For Isabelle ” was written, on 
the slip of paper that accompanied the casket of jewels 
at Poitiers. The note read as follows : 

“ Dear Isabelle — I send you these flowers, though I 
know they will be ungraciously received. As they come 
from me, their beauty and fragrance will not find favor in 
your eyes. But whatever may be their fate, even though 
you only touch them to fling them disdainfully out of the 
window, they will force you to think for a moment — if it 
be but in anger — of him who declares himself, in spite 
of everything, your devoted adorer, 

“ VALLOMBREUSE.” 

This note, breathing of the most specious gallantry, 
and tenacity of purpose, did produce very much the ef- 
fect it predicted ; for it made Isabelle exceedingly angry; 
and, without even once inhaling the delicious perfume of 
the flowers, or pausing for an instant to admire their 
beauty, she flung the bouquet, diamond bracelet and all, 
out into the antechamber. Never .surely were lovely 
blossoms so badly treated ; and yet Isabelle was excess- 
ively fond of them ; but she feared that if she even al- 
lowed them to remain a little while in her room, their 
donor would presume upon the slight concession. She 
had scarcely resumed her seat by the fire, after disposing 
of the obnoxious bouquet, when a maid appeared, who 
had been sent to wait upon her. She was a pretty, re- . 
fined looking girl, but very pale, and with an air of deep 
melancholy — as if she were brooding over a secret sor- 
18 


410 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


row. She offered her services to Isabelle without looking 
up, and in a low, subdued voice, as if she feared that the 
very walls had ears. Isabelle allowed her to take down 
and comb out her long, silky hair, which was very much 
dishevelled, and to arrange it again as she habitually 
wore it ; which was quickly and skilfully done. Then 
the maid opened a wardrobe and took out several beau- 
tiful gowns, exquisitely made and trimmed, and just 
Isabelle’s size ; but she would not even look at them, 
and sharply ordered that they should instantly be put 
back where they belonged, though her own dress was 
very much the worse for the rough treatment it had been 
subjected to on the preceding day, and it was a trial to 
the sweet, dainty creature to be so untidy. But she was 
determined to accept nothing from the duke, no matter 
how long her captivity might last. The maid did not in- 
sist, but acceded to her wishes with a mild, pitying air — 
just as indulgence is shown, as far as possible, to all the 
little whims and caprices of prisoners condemned to 
death. Isabelle would have liked to question her attend- 
ant, and endeavor to elicit some information from her, 
but the girl was more like an automaton than anything 
else, and it was impossible to gain more than a monosyl- 
lable from her lips. So Isabelle resigned herself with a 
sigh to her mute ministerings, not without a sort of vague 
terror. 

After the maid had retired, dinner was served as be- 
fore, and Isabelle made a hearty meal — feeling that she 
must keep up her strength, and also hopeful of hearing 
something in a few hours more from her faithful lover. 
Her thoughts were all of him, and as she realized the 
dangers to which he would inevitably be exposed for her 
sake, her eyes filled with tears, and a ^arp pang shot 


VALLOMBRE USE. 


41I 

through her heart. She was angry with herself for being 
the cause of so much trouble, and fain to curse her own 
beauty — the unhappy occasion of it all. She was ab- 
sorbed in these sad thoughts when a little noise, as if a 
hail-stone had struck against the window-pane, suddenly 
aroused her. She flew to the casement, and saw Chi- 
quita, in the tree opposite, signing to her to open it, and 
swinging back and forth the long horse-hair cord, with 
the iron hook attached to it. . She hastened to comply 
with the wishes of her strange little ally, and, as she 
stepped back in obedience to another sign, the hook, 
thrown with unerring aim, caught securely in the iron 
railing of the little balcony. Chiquita tied the other end 
of the cord to the branch to which she was clinging, and 
then began to cross over the intervening space as before ; 
but ere she was half-way over, the knot gave way, and 
poor Isabelle for one moment of intense agony thought 
that the child was lost. But, instead of falling into the 
moat beneath her, Chiquita, who did not appear to be 
in the least disconcerted by this accident, swung over 
against the wall below the balcony, and climbing up the 
cord hand over hand, leaped lightly into the room, be- 
fore Isabelle had recovered her breath. Finding her 
very pale, and tremulous, the child said smilingly, “You 
were frightened, eh ? and thought Chiquita would fall 
down among the frogs in the moat. When I tied my 
cord to the branch, I only made a slip-knot, so that I 
could bring it back with me. I must have looked like a 
big spider climbing up its thread,” she added, with a 
laugh. 

“ My dear child,” said Isabelle, with much feeling, 
and kissing Chiquita’s forehead, “ you are a very brave 
little girl.” ^ 


412 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


“ I saw your friends. They had been searching and 
searching for you ; but without Chiquita they would 
never have found out where you were hidden. The cap- 
tain was rushing about like an angry lion — his eyes 
flashed fire — he was magnificent. I came back with him. 
He rode, and held me in front of him. He is hidden in 
a little wood not far off, he and his comrades — they must 
keep out of sight, you know. This evening, as soon as 
it is dark, they will try to get in here to you — by the 
tree, you know. There’s sure to be a scrimmage — pistol 
shots and swords clashing — oh ! it will be splendid ; for 
there’s nothing so fine as a good fight ; when the men 
are in earnest, and fierce and brave. Now don’t you be 
frightened and scream, as silly women do ; nothing upsets 
them like that. You must just remain perfectly quiet, 
and keep out of their way. If you like, I will come and 
stay by you, so that you will not be afraid.” 

“ Don’t be uneasy about that, Chiquita ! I will not 
annoy my brave friends, who come to save my life at the 
risk of their own, by any foolish fears or demonstrations ; 
that I promise you.” 

“ That’s right,” the child replied, “ and until they 
come, you can defend yourself with my knife, you know. 
Don’t forget the proper way to use it. Strike like this, 
and then do so ; you can rip him up beautifully. As 
for me, I’m going to hunt up a quiet corner where I can 
get a nap. No, I can’t stay here, for we must not be 
seen together ; it would never do. Now do you be sure 
to keep away from that window. You must not even go 
near it, no matter what you hear, for fear they might sus- 
pect that you hoped for help from that direction. If 
they did, it would be all up with us ; for they would send 
out and search the woods, and beat the bushes, and find 


VALL OMBRE USE. 


413 


our friends where they lie hidden. The whole thing 
would fall through, and you would have to stop here 
with this horrid duke that you hate so much.” 

‘‘ I will not go near the window,” Isabelle answered, 
“ nor even look towards it, however much I may wish to. 
You may depend upon my discretion, Chiquita, I do as- 
sure you.” 

Reassured upon this important point, Chiquita crept 
softly away, and went back to the lower room where she 
had left the ruffians carousing. They were still there — 
lying about on the benches and the floor, in a drunken 
sleep, and evidently had not even missed her. She curled 
herself up in a corner, as far as might be from the loath- 
some brutes, and was asleep in a minute. The poor child 
was completely tired out ; her slender little feet had 
travelled eight leagues the night before, running a good 
part of the way, and the return on horseback had per- 
haps fatigued her even more, being unaccustomed to 
it. Although her fragile little body had the strength 
and endurance of steel, she was worn out now, and 
lay, pale and motionless, in a sleep that seemed like 
death. 

“ Dear me ! how these children do sleep to be sure,” 
said Malartic, when he roused himself at last and looked 
about him. ‘‘ In spite of our carouse, and all the noise 
we made, that little monkey in the corner there has never 
waked nor stirred. Halloa ! wake up you fellows ! drunk- 
en beasts that you are. Try to stand up on your hind 
legs, and go out in the court and dash a bucket of cold 
water over your cursed heads. The Circe of drunkenness 
has made swine of you in earnest — go and see if the bap- 
tism I recommend will turn you back into men, and then 
we’ll take a little look round the place, to make sure 


414 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


there’s no plot hatching to rescue the little beauty we 
have in charge.” 

The men scrambled to their feet slowly and with dif- 
ficulty, and staggered out into the court as best they 
might, where the fresh air, and the treatment prescribed 
by Malartic, did a good deal towards reviving them ; but 
they were a sorry looking set after all, and there were 
many aching heads among them. As soon as they were 
fit for it, Malartic took three of the least tipsy of them, 
and leading the way to the small postern that opened 
on the moat, unchained a row-boat lying there, crossed 
the broad ditch, ascended a steep flight of steps leading 
up the bank on the other side, and, leaving one man 
to guard the boat, proceeded to make a tour of inspec- 
tion in the immediate vicinity of the chateau ; fortunate- 
ly without stumbling on the party concealed in the wood, 
or seeing anything to arouse their suspicions ; so they 
returned to their quarters perfectly satisfied that there 
was no enemy lurking near. 

Meantime Isabelle, left quite alone, tried in vain to in- 
terest herself in a book she had found lying upon one of 
the side-tables. She read a few pages mechanically, and 
then, finding it impossible to fix her attention upon it, 
threw the volume from her and sat idly in front of the 
fire, which was blazing cheerily, thinking of her own true 
lover, and praying that he might be preserved from in- 
jury in the impending struggle. Evening came at last — 
a servant brought in lights, and soon after the major-domo 
announced a visit from the Duke of Vallomb reuse. He 
entered at once, and greeted his fair captive with the 
most finished courtesy. He looked very handsome, in 
a superb suit of pearl gray satin, richly trimmed with 
crimson velvet, and Isabelle could not but admire his 


VALLOMBREUSE. 


415 


personal appearance, much as she detested his char- 
acter. 

“ I have come to see, my adorable Isabelle, whether 1 
shall be more kindly received than my flowers,” said he, 
drawing up a chair beside hers. “ I have not the vanity 
to think so, but I want you to become accustomed to my 
presence. To-morrow another bouquet, and another visit.” 

“ Both will be useless, my lord,” she replied, “ though 
I am sorry to have to be so rude as to say so — but I had 
much better be perfectly frank with you.” 

“ Ah, well ! ” rejoined the duke, with a malicious smile, 
“ I will dispense with hope, and content myself with real- 
ity. You do not know, my poor child, what a Vallom- 
breuse can be — you, who vainly try to resist him. He 
has never yet known what it was to have an unsatisfied 
desire — he invariably gains his ends, in spite of all oppo- 
sition — nothing can stop him. Tears, supplication, la- 
ments, threats, even dead bodies and smoking ruins would 
not daunt him. Do not tempt him too powerfully, by 
throwing new obstacles in his way, you imprudent child ! ” 

Isabelle, frightened by the expression of his counte- 
nance as he spoke thus, instinctively pushed her chair 
further away from his, and felt for Chiquita’s knife. But 
the wily duke, seeing that he had made a mistake, in- 
stantly changed his tone, and begging her pardon most 
humbly for his vehemence, endeavored to persuade her, 
by many specious arguments, that she was wrong in per- 
sistently turning a deaf ear to his suit — setting forth at 
length, and in glowing words, all the advantages that 
would accrue to her if she would but yield to his wishes, 
and describing the happiness in store for her. While he 
was thus eloquently pleading his cause, Isabelle, who had 
given him only a divided attention, thought that she 


4i6 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


heard a peculiar little noise in the direction whence the 
longed-for aid was to come, and fearing that Vallom- 
breuse might hear it also, hastened to answer him the in- 
stant that he paused, in a way to vex him still further — • 
for she preferred his anger to his love-making. Also, she 
hoped that by quarrelling with him she would be able to 
prevent his perceiving the suspicious little sound — now 
growing louder and more noticeable. 

“ The happiness that you so eloquently describe, my 
lord, would be for me a disgrace, which I am resolved to 
escape by death, if all other means fail me. You never 
shall have me living. Formerly I regarded you with in- 
difference, but now I both hate and despise you, for 
your infamous, outrageous and violent behavior to me, 
your helpless victim. Yes, I may as well tell you openly 
, — and I glory in it — that I do love the Baron de Sigog- 
nac, whom you have more than once so basely tried to 
assassinate, through your miserable hired ruffians.” 

The strange noise still kept on, and Isabella raised her 
voice to drown it. At her audacious, defiant words, so 
distinctly and impressively enunciated — hurled at him, as 
it were — Vallombreuse turned pale, and his eyes flashed 
ominously ; a light foam gathered about the corners of 
his mouth, and he laid hold of the handle of . his sword. 
For an instant he thought of killing Isabelle himself, then 
and there. If he could not have her, at least no one else 
should. But he relinquished that idea almost as soon as 
it occurred to him, and with a hard, forced laugh said, 
as he sprang up and advanced impetuously towards Isa- 
belle, who retreated before him : 

“ Now, by all the devils in hell, I cannot help admir- 
ing you immensely in this mood. It is a new role for 
you, and you are deucedly charming in it. You have 


V ALL OMBRE USE. 


417 


got such a splendid color, and your eyes are so bright — 
you are superb, I declare. I am greatly flattered at your 
blazing out into such dazzling beauty on my account — 
upon my word I am. You have done well to speak out 
openly — I hate deceit. So you love de Sigognac, do 
you ? So much the better, say I — it will be all the 
sweeter to call you mine. It will be a pleasing variety to 
press ardent kisses upon sweet lips that say “ I hate 
you,” instead of the insipid, everlasting ‘‘ I love you,” 
that one gets a surfeit of from all the pretty women of 
one’s acquaintance.” 

Alarmed at this coarse language, and the threatening 
gestures that accompanied it, Isabelle started back and 
drew out Chiquita’s knife. 

“ Bravo ! ” cried the duke — “ here comes the tradi- 
tional poniard. We are being treated to a bit of high 
tragedy. But, my fierce little beauty, if you are well up 
in your Roman history, you will remember that the chaste 
Madame Lucretia did not make use of her dagger until 
after the assault of Sextus, the bold son of Tarquin the 
Proud. That ancient and much-cited example is a good 
one to follow.” 

And without paying any more attention to the knife 
than to a bee-sting, he had violently seized Isabelle in his 
arms before she could raise it to strike. 

Just at that moment a loud cracking noise was heard, 
followed by a tremendous crash, and the casement fell 
clattering to the floor, with every pane of glass in it shat- 
tered ; as if a giant had put his knee against it and bro- 
ken it in ; while a mass of branches protruded through the 
opening into the room. It was the top of the tree that 
Chiquita had made such good use of as a way of escape 
and return. The trunk, sawed nearly through by de 
18* 


4i8 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


Sigognac and his companions, was guided in its fall so as 
to make a means of access to Isabelle’s window ; both 
bridging the moat, and answering all the purposes of a 
ladder. 

The Duke of Vallombreuse, astonished at this most 
extraordinary intrusion upon his love-making, released 
his trembling victim, and drew his sword. Chiquita, who 
had crept into the room unperceived when the crash 
came, pulled Isabelle’s sleeve and whispered, “Come into 
this corner, out of the way ; the dance is going to begin.” 

As she spoke, several pistol shots were heard without, 
and four of the duke’s ruffians — who were doing garrison 
duty — came rushing up the stairs, four steps at a time, 
and dashed into the room — sword in hand, and eager for 
the fray. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE AMETHYST RING. 

The topmost branches of the tree, protruding through 
the window, rendered the centre of the room untenable, 
so Malartic and his three aids ranged themselves two 
and two against the wall on either side of it, armed 
with pistols and swords — ready to give the assailants a 
warm welcome. 

“You had better retire, my lord duke, or else put on a 
mask,” whispered Malartic to the young nobleman, “ so 
that you may not be seen and recognized in this affair.” 

“ What do I care ? ” cried Vallombreuse, flourishing his 
sword. “ I am not afraid of anybody in the world — and 
besides, those who see me will never go away from this 
to tell of it.” 

“ But at least your lordship will place this second 
Helen in some safe retreat. A stray bullet might so 
easily deprive your highness of the prize that cost so dear 
— and it would be such a pity.” 

The duke, finding this advice judicious, went at once 
over to where Isabelle was standing beside Chiquita, and 
throwing his arms round her attempted to carry her into 
the next room. The poor girl made a desperate resist- 
ance, and slipping from the duke’s grasp rushed to the 
window, regardless of danger, crying, “ Save me, de Si- 
gognac ! save me ! ” A voice from without answered, “ I 
am coming,” but, before he could reach the window, Val- 

419 


420 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


lombreuse had again seized his prey, and succeeded in 
carrying her into the adjoining room, closing and bolting 
the stout oaken door behind him just as de Sigognac 
bounded into the chamber he had quitted. His entrance 
was so sudden, and so swiftly and boldly made, that he 
entirely escaped the pistol shots aimed at him, and the 
four bullets all fell harmless. When the smoke had 
cleared away and the “ garrison ” saw that he was unhurt, 
a murmur of astonishment arose, and one of the men 
exclaimed aloud that Captain Fracasse — the only name 
by which they knew him — must bear a charmed life ; 
whereupon, Malartic cried, “ Leave him to me. I’ll soon 
finish him, and do you three keep a strict guard over the 
window there ; for there will be more to follow this one 
if I am not mistaken.” 

But he did not find his self-imposed task as easy as he 
supposed — for de Sigognac was ready for him, and gave 
him plenty to do, though his surprise and disappointment 
were overwhelming when he found that Isabelle was no- 
where to be seen. 

“ Where is she ? ” he cried impetuously. “ Where is 
Isabelle ? I heard her voice in here only a moment 
ago.” 

“ Don’t ask me ! ” Malartic retorted. “ You didn’t 
give her into my charge.” And all this time their swords 
were flashing and clashing, as the combat between them 
grew more animated. 

A moment later, before the men had finished reloading 
their pistols, Scapin dashed in through the window, 
throwing a remarkable somersault like an acrobat as he 
came, and seeing that the three ruffians had laid down 
their swords beside them on the floor while attending to 
their other weapons, he seized upon them all, ere their 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


421 


owners had recovered from their astonishment at his ex- 
traordinary advent, and hurled them through the broken 
casement down into the moat. Then, laying hold of one 
of the three from behind, and pinning down his arms se- 
curely, he placed him in front of himself for a shield — 
turning him dexterously this way and that, in order to keep 
his body always between his own and the enemy ; so that 
they dared not fire upon him lest they should kill their 
comrade, who was vehemently beseeching them to spare 
his life, and vainly struggling to escape from Scapin’s 
iron grip. 

The combat between de Sigognac and Malartic was 
still going on, but at last, the baron — who had already 
wounded his adversary slightly, and whose agony and 
desperation at being kept from prosecuting his search for 
Isabelle were intense — wrested Malartic’s sword from his 
grasp, by a dexterous manoeuvre with his own, and putting 
his foot upon it as it lay on the floor raised the point of 
his blade to the professional ruffian’s throat, crying 
“ Surrender, or you are a dead man ! ” 

At this critical moment another one of the besieging 
party burst in through the window, who, seeing at a 
glance how matters stood, said to Malartic in an authori- 
tative tone, “You can surrender without dishonor to this 
valiant hero — you are entirely at his mercy. You have 
done your duty loyally — now consider yourself a pris- 
oner of war.” 

Then turning to de Sigognac, he said, “ You may trust 
his word, for he is an honorable fellow in his way, and 
will not molest you again — I will answer for him.” 

Malartic made a gesture of acquiescence, and the baron 
let him go — whereupon the discomfited bully picked up 
his sword, and with a crest-fallen air walked off very dis- 


422 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


consolately to a corner, where he sat down and occupied 
himself in staunching the blood that was flowing from his 
wound. The other three men were quickly conquered, 
and, at the suggestion of the latest comer, were securely 
bound hand and foot as they lay upon the floor, and 
then left to reflect upon their misfortunes. 

‘‘‘^TJj^can’t do any more mischiefjjow,” said Jacque- 
min Lam^ui'de, iiiuLkiiigly 'pTorit was that famous 
fighting man in person, who, in his enthusiastic admira- 
tion, or rather adoration, for de Sigognac, had offered his 
services on this momentous occasion — services by no 
means to be despised. As to the brave Herode, he was 
doing good service in fighting the rest of the garrison 
below. They had hastened out and crossed the moat in 
the little row-boat as quickly as possible after the alarm 
was given, but arrived too late, as we have seen, to pre- 
vent the assailants from ascending their strange scaling- 
ladder. So they determined to follow, hoping to over- 
take and dislodge some of them. But Herode, who had 
found the upper branches bending and cracking in a very 
ominous manner under his great weight, was forced to 
turn about and make his way back to the main trunk, 
where, under cover of darkness, he quietly awaited the 
climbing foe. Merindol, who commanded this detach- 
ment of the garrison, was first, and being completely 
taken by surprise was easily dislodged and thrown down 
into the water below. The next one, aroused to a sense 
of his danger by this, pulled out a pistol and fired, but 
in the agitation of the moment, and the darkness, missed 
his aim, so that he was entirely at the tyrant's mercy, and 
in an instant was held suspended over the deep waters of 
the moat. He clung desperately to a little branch he 
had managed to lay hold of, and made such a brave 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


423 


fight for his life, that Herode, who was merciful by- 
nature, though so fierce of aspect, decided to make terms 
with him, if he could do so without injuring the interests 
of his own party ; and upon receiving a solemn promise 
from him to remain strictly neutral during the remainder of 
the fray, the powerful actor lifted him up, with the great- 
est ease, and seated him in safety upon the tree-trunk 
again. The popr fellow was so grateful that he was even 
better than his word, for, making use of the pass-word 
and giving a pretended order from Merindol to the other 
two, who were some distance behind him and ignorant of 
what had happened, he sent them off post-haste to attend 
to an imaginary foe at some distance from the chateau ; 
availing himself of their absence to make good his escape, 
after heartily thanking Herode for his clemency. The 
moon was just rising, and by its ligh^ the tyrant spied the 
little row-boat, lying not very far off at the foot of a flight 
of steps in the steep bank, and he was not slow to make 
use of it to cross the moat, and penetrate into the inte- 
rior court of the chateau — the postern having been fortu- 
nately left open. Looking about him, to see how he 
could best rejoin his comrades within the building, his 
eyes fell upon the porch guarded by the two huge, calm 
sphinxes, and he wisely concluded that through it must 
lie his way to the scene of action. 

Meantime de Sigognac, S.capin and Lampourde, hav- 
ing a chance to look about them, were horrified to find 
that they were prisoners in the room where the battle 
had been fought. In vain they tried to burst open 
the stout oaken door which was their only means of 
egress — for the tree had, but a moment before, given way 
and fallen with a loud crash into the moat ; in vain they 
strove to cut through one of the panels, or force the lock 


424 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


from its fastenings. To de Sigognac this delay was mad- 
dening, for he knew that the Duke of Vallombreuse had 
carried Isabelle away, and that he must still be with her. 
He worked like a giant himself, and incited the others to 
redouble their efforts ; making battering rams of various 
pieces of furniture — resorting to every means that their 
ingenuity could devise — but without making the least im- 
pression on the massive barrier. They had paused in 
dismay, when suddenly a slight, grinding noise was heard, 
like a key turning in a lock, and the door, so unsuccess- 
fully attacked, opened as if by magic before them. 

“ What good angel has come to our aid ? ” cried de 
Sigognac ; “ and by what miracle does this door open of 
itself, after having so stoutly resisted all our efforts ? ” 

“ There is neither angel nor miracle ; only Chiquita,” 
answered a quiet little voice, as the child appeared from 
behind the door, and fixed her great, dark, liquid eyes 
calmly on de Sigognac. She had managed to slip out 
with Vallombreuse and Isabelle, entirely unnoticed by 
the former, and in the hope of being of use to the 
latter. 

“ Where is Isabelle ? ” cried the baron, as he crossed 
the threshold and looked anxiously round the anteroom, 
which was dimly lighted by one little flickering lamp. 
For a moment he did not perceive her ; the Duke of 
Vallombreuse, surprised at the sudden opening of the 
door, which he had believed to be securely fastened and 
impenetrable, had retreated into a corner, and placed 
Isabelle, who was almost fainting from terror and ex- 
haustion, behind him. She had sunk upon her knees, 
with her head leaning against the wall, her long hair, 
which had come down, falling about her, and her dress 
in the utmost disorder ; for she had struggled desperately 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


425 


in the arms of her captor ; who, feeling that his fair victim 
was about to escape from his clutches, had vainly striven 
to snatch a few kisses from the sweet lips so temptingly 
near his own. 

Here she is,” said Chiquita, “in this corner, behind 
the Duke of Vallombreuse ; but, to get to her you must 
first kill him.” 

“ Of course I shall kill him,” cried de Sigognac, ad- 
vancing sword in hand towards the young duke, who was 
ready to receive him. 

“We shall see about that. Sir Captain Fracasse — 
doughty knight of Bohimiennes !'' said Vallombreuse 
disdainfully, and the conflict began. The duke was 
not de Sigognac’s equal at this kind of work, but still 
he was skilful and brave, and had had too much good 
instruction ^to handle his sword like a broom-stick, as 
Lampourde expressed it. He stood entirely upon the 
defensive, and was exceedingly wary and prudent, hoping, 
as his adversary must be already considerably fatigued 
by his encounter with Malartic, that he might be able 
to get the better of him this time, and retrieve his 
previous defeat. At the very beginning he had suc- 
ceeded in raising a small silver whistle to his lips — with 
his left hand — -and its shrill summons brought five or six 
armed attendants into the room. 

“ Carry away this woman,” he cried, “ and put out 
those two rascals. I will take care of the captain my- 
self.” 

The sudden irruption of these fresh forces astonished 
de Sigognac, and as he saw two of the men lift up and 
carry off Isabelle — who had fainted quite away — he was 
thrown for an instant off his guard, and very nearly run 
through the body by his opponent. 


426 


CAPTAIIV FRACASSE. 


Roused to a sense of his danger, he attacked the duke 
with renewed fury, and with a terrible thrust, that made 
him reel, wounded him seriously in the upper part of the 
chest. 

Meanwhile Lampourde and Scapin had shown the duke’s 
lackeys that it would not be a very easy matter to put 
them out, and were handling them rather roughly, when 
the cowardly fellows, seeing that their master was 
wounded, and leaning against the wall, deathly pale, 
thought that he was done for, and although they were 
fully armed, took to their heels and fled, deaf to his 
feeble cry for assistance. Whilst all this was going on, 
the tyrant was making his way up the grand staircase, as 
fast as his corpulence would permit, and reached the top 
just in time to see Isabelle, pale, dishevelled, motionless, 
and apparently dead, being borne along the corridor by 
two lackeys. Without stopping to make any inquiries, 
and full of wrath at the thought that the sweet girl had 
fallen a victim to the wickedness of the cruel Duke of 
Vallombreuse, he drew his sword, and fell upon the two 
men with such fury that they dropped their light burden 
and fled down the stairs as fast as their legs could carry 
them. Then he knelt down beside the unconscious 
girl, raised her gently in his arms, and found that her 
heart was beating, though but feebly, and that she appar- 
ently had no wound, while she sighed faintly, like a person 
beginning to revive after a swoon. In this position he was 
found by de Sigognac, who had effectually gotten rid of 
Vallombreuse, by the famous and well directed thrust 
that had thrown Jacquemin Lampourde into a rapture of 
admiration and delight. He knelt down beside his dar- 
ling, took both her hands in his, and said, in the most ten- 
der tones, that Isabelle heard vaguely as if in a dream : 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


427 

“ Rouse yourself, dear heart, and fear nothing. You 
are safe now, with your own friends, and your own true 
lover — nobody can harm or frighten you again.” 

Although she did not yet open her eyes, a faint smile 
dawned upon the colorless lips, and her cold, trembling, 
little fingers feebly returned the tender pressure of de 
Sigognac’s warm hands. Lampourde stood by, and 
looked down with tearful eyes upon this touching group 
— for he was exceedingly romantic and sentimental, and 
always intensely interested in a love affair. Suddenly, 
in the midst of the profound silence that had succeeded 
to the uproar of the melee, the winding of a horn was 
heard without, and in a moment energetically repeated. It 
was evidently a summons that had to be instantly obeyed ; 
the drawbridge was lowered in haste, with a great rattling 
of chains, and a carriage driven rapidly into the court, 
while the red, flaring light of torches flashed through 
the windows of the corridor. In another minute the door 
of the vestibule was thrown open, and hasty steps 
ascended the grand staircase. First came four tall 
lackeys, in rich liveries, carrying lights, and directly 
behind them a tall, noble-looking man, who was dressed 
from head to foot in black velvet, with an order shining 
on his breast — of those that are usually reserved for kings 
and princes of the blood, and only very exceptionally 
bestowed, upon the most illustrious personages. 

When the four lackeys reached the landing at the head 
of the stairs, they silently ranged themselves against the 
wall, and stood like statues bearing torches ; without the 
raising of an eyelid, or the slightest change in the stolid 
expression of their countenances to indicate that they 
perceived anything out of the usual way — exhibiting in 
perfection that miraculous imperturbability and self- 


428 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


command which is peculiar to well-bred, thoroughly- 
trained men-servants. The gentleman whom they had 
preceded paused ere he stepped upon the landing. Al- 
though age had brought wrinkles to his handsome face, 
and turned his abundant dark hair gray, it was still easy 
to recognize in him the original of the portrait that had 
so fascinated Isabelle, and whose protection she had 
passionately implored in her distress. 

It was the princely father of Vallombreuse — the son 
bearing a different name, that of a duchy he possessed, 
until he in his turn should become the head of the family, 
and succeed to the title of prince. 

At sight of Isabelle, supported by de Sigognac and the 
tyrant, whose ghastly pallor made her look like one dead, 
the aged gentleman raised his arms towards heaven and 
groaned. 

“ Alas ! I am too late,” said he, “ for all the haste I 
made,” and advancing a few steps he bent over the pros- 
trate girl, and took her lifeless hand in his. Upon this 
hand, white, cold and diaphanous, as if it had been sculp- 
tured in alabaster, shone a ring, set with an amethyst of 
unusual size. The old nobleman seemed strangely agi- 
tated as it caught his eye. He drew it gently from Isa- 
belle’s slender finger, with a trembling hand signed to 
one of the torch-bearers to bring his light nearer, and by 
it eagerly examined the device cut upon the stone ; first 
holding it close to the light and then at arm’s length ; 
as those whose eyesight is impaired by age are wont 
to do. The Baron de Sigognac, Herode and Lam- 
pourde anxiously watched the agitated movements of 
the prince, and his change of expression, as he con- 
templated this jewel, which he seemed to recognize ; and 
which he turned and twisted between his fingers, with a 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


429 


pained look in his face, as if some great trouble had 
befallen him. 

‘Where is the Duke of Vallombreuse ? ” he cried at 
last, in a voice of thunder. “ Where is that monster in 
human shape, who is unworthy of my race ? ” 

He had recognized, without a possibility of doubt, in 
this ring, the one bearing a fanciful device, with which he 
had been accustomed, long ago, to seal the notes he 
wrote to Cornelia— Isabelle’s mother, and his own youth- 
ful love. How happened it that this ring was on the 
finger of the young actress, who had been forcibly and 
shamefully abducted by Vallombreuse? From whom 
could she have received it ? These questions were tor- 
turing to him. 

“ Can it be possible that she is Cornelia’s daughter and 
mine ?” said the prince to himself. “Her profession, 
her age, her sweet face, in which I can trace a softened, 
beautified likeness of her mother’s, but which has a pe- 
culiarly high-bred, refined expression, worthy of a royal 
princess, all combine to make me believe it must be so. 
Then, alas ! alas ! it is his own sister that this cursed 
libertine has so wronged, and he has been guilty of a 
horrible, horrible crime. Oh ! I am cruelly punished for 
my youthful folly and sin.” 

Isabelle at length opened her eyes, and her first look 
fell upon the prince, holding the ring that he had drawn 
from her finger. It seemed to her as if she had seen his 
face before — but in youth, without the gray hair and 
beard. It seemed also to be an aged copy of the portrait 
over the chimney-piece in her room, and a feeling of 
profound veneration filled her heart as she gazed at him. 
She saw, too, her beloved de Sigognac kneeling beside 
her, watching her with tenderest devotion ; and the worthy 


430 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


tyrant as well — both safe and sound. To the horrors of 
the terrible struggle had succeeded the peace and security 
of deliverance. She had nothing more to fear, for her 
friends or for herself — how could she ever be thankful 
enough ? 

The prince, who had been gazing at her with passion- 
ate earnestness, as if her fair face possessed an irresist- 
ible charm for him, now addressed her in low, moved 
tones : 

“ Mademoiselle, will you kindly tell me how you came 
by this ring, which recalls very dear and sacred memories 
to me ? Has it been long in your possession ? ” 

“ I have had it ever since my infancy ; it is the only 
thing that my poor mother left me,” Isabelle replied, 
with gentle dignity. 

“ And who was your mother ? Will you tell me some- 
thing about her ? ” continued the prince, with increasing 
emotion. 

“ Her name was Cornelia, and she was an actress, be- 
longing to the same troupe that I am a member of now.” 

“ Cornelia ! then there is no possible doubt about it,” 
murmured the prince to himself, in great agitation. “ Yes, 
it is certainly she whom I have been seeking all these 
years — and now to find her thus ! ” 

Then, controlling his emotion, he resumed his usual 
calm, majestic demeanor, and turning back to Isabelle, 
said to her, “ Permit me to keep this ring for the present ; 
I will soon give it back to you.” 

“ I am content to leave it in your lordship’s hands,” the 
young actress replied, in whose mind the memory of a 
face, that she had seen long years ago bending over her 
cradle, was growing clearer and more distinct every mo- 
ment. 


THE AMETHYST TING. 


431 


“Gentlemen,” said the prince, turning to de Sigognac 
and his companions, “ under any other circumstances I 
might find your presence here, in my chateau, with arms 
in your hands, unwarranted, but I am aware of the neces- 
sity that drove you to forcibly invade this mansion, 
hitherto sacred from such scenes as this. I know that 
violence must be met with violence, and justifies it ; there- 
fore I shall take no further notice of what has happened 
here to-night, and you need have no fears of any evil 
consequences to yourselves because of your share in it. 
But where is the Duke of Vallombreuse ? that degenerate 
son who disgraces my old age.” 

As if in obedience to his father’s call, the young duke 
at that moment appeared upon the threshold of the door 
leading into what had been Isabelle’s apartment, sup- 
ported by Malartic. He was frightfully pale, and his 
clinched hand pressed a handkerchief tightly upon his 
wounded chest. He came forward with difficulty, look- 
ing like a ghost. Only a strong effort of will kept him 
from falling — an effort that gave to his face the immo- 
bility of a marble mask. He had heard the voice of his 
father, whom, depraved and shameless as he was, he yet 
respected and dreaded, and he hoped to be able to con- 
ceal his wound from him. He bit his lips so as not to 
cry out or groan in his agony, and resolutely swallowed 
down the bloody foam that kept rising and filling his 
mouth. He even took off his hat, in spite of the fright- 
ful pain the raising of his arm caused him, and stood 
uncovered and silent before his angry parent. 

“ Sir,” said the prince, severely, “ your misdeeds tran- 
scend all limits, and your behavior is such that I shall be 
forced to implore the king to send you to prison, or into 
exile. You are not fit to be at large. Abduction — im- 


432 


CAPTAIN FRA CA SSE. 


prisonment — criminal assault. These are not simple gal- 
lantries ; and though I might be willing to pardon and 
overlook many excesses, committed in the wildness of li- 
centious youth, I never could bring myself to forgive a 
deliberate and premeditated crime. Do you know, you 
monster,” he continued, approaching Vallombreuse, and 
whispering in his ear, so that no one else could hear, “ do 
you know who this young girl is ? this good and chaste 
Isabelle, whom you have forcibly abducted, in spite of 
her determined and virtuous resistance ! She is your 
own sister ! ” 

May she replace the son you are about to lose,” 
the young duke replied, attacked by a sudden faintness, 
and an agony of pain which he felt that he could not 
long endure and live ; “ but I am not as guilty as you 
suppose. Isabelle is pure — stainless. I swear it, by the 
God before whom I must shortly appear. Death does 
not lie, and you may believe what I say, upon the word 
of a dying gentleman.” 

These words were uttered loudly and distinctly, so as 
to be heard by all. Isabelle turned her beautiful eyes, 
wet with tears, upon de Sigognac, and read in those of 
her true and faithful lover that he had not waited for 
the solemn attestation, ‘‘in extremis,” of the Duke of 
Vallombreuse to believe in the perfect purity of her 
whom he adored. 

“ But what is the matter ? ” asked the prince, holding 
out his hand to his son, who staggered and swayed to and 
fro in spite of Malartic’s efforts to support him, and 
whose face was fairly livid. 

“ Nothing, father,” answered Vallombreuse, in a 
scarcely articulate voice, “ nothing — only I am dy- 
ing” — and he fell at full length on the floor, before the 


1 

\ 


I 


4 , 


( 


I 

I 

i 

'1' 


s 

\ 

> 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


433 


prince could clasp him in his arms, as he endeavored 
to do. 

“ He did not fall on his face,” said Jacquemin Lam- 
pourde, sententiously ; “ it’s nothing but a fainting fit. 
He may escape yet. We duellists are familiar with this 
sort of thing, my lord ; a great deal more so than most 
medical men, and you may depend upon what I say.” 

“ A doctor ! a doctor ! ” cried the prince, forgetting his 
anger as he saw his son lying apparently lifeless at his feet. 
“Pprhaps this man is right, and there maybe some hope 
for him yet. A fortune to whomsoever will save my son ! 
— my only son ! — the last scion of a noble race. Go ! 
run quickly ! What are you about there ? — don’t you 
understand me ? Go, I say, and run as fast as you can ; 
take the fleetest horse in the stable.” 

Whereupon two of the imperturbable lackeys, who had 
held their torches throughout this exciting scene with- 
out moving a muscle, hastened off to execute their mas- 
ter’s orders. Some of his own servants now came for- 
ward, raised up the unconscious Duke of Vallombreuse 
with every possible care and precaution, and by his 
father’s command carried him to his own room and laid 
him on his own bed — the aged prince following, with a 
face from which grief and anxiety had already driven 
away all traces of anger. He saw his race extinct in 
the death of this son, whom he so dearly loved — despite 
his faults — and whose vices he forgot for the moment, re- 
membering only his brilliant and lovable qualities. A 
profound melancholy took complete possession of him, 
as he stood for a few moments plunged in a sorrowful 
reverie that everybody respected. 

Isabelle, entirely revived, and no longer feeling at all 
faint, had risen to her feet, and now stood between de 

19 


434 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


Sigognacand the tyrant, adjusting, with a trembling hand, 
her disordered dress and dishevelled hair. Lampourde 
and Scapin had retired to a little distance from them, and 
held themselves modestly aloof, whilst the men within, 
still bound hand and foot, kept as quiet as possible ; fear- 
ful of their fate if brought to the prince’s notice. At 
length that aged nobleman returned, and breaking the 
terrible silence that had weighed upon all, said, in severe 
tones, “ Let all those who placed their services at the 
disposition of the Duke of Vallombreuse, to aid him in 
indulging his evil passions and committing a terrible 
crime, quit this chateau instantly. I will refrain from 
placing you in the hands of the public executioner, 
though you richly deserve it. Go now ! vanish ! get ye 
back to your lairs ! and rest assured that justice will not 
fail to overtake you at last.” 

These words were not complimentary, but the trem- 
bling offenders were thankful to get off so easily, and the 
ruffians, whom Lampourde and Scapin had unbound, fol- 
lowed Malartic down the stairs in silence, without daring 
to claim their promised reward. When they had disap- 
peared, the prince advanced and took Isabelle by the 
hand, and gently detaching her from the group of which 
she had formed a part, led her over to where he had been 
standing, and kept her beside him. 

“Stay here, mademoiselle,” he said; “your place is 
henceforth by my side. It is the least that you can do 
to fulfil your duty as my daughter, since you are the in- 
nocent means of depriving me of my son,” And he 
wiped away a tear, that, despite all his efforts to control 
his grief, rolled down his withered cheek. Then turning 
to de Sigognac, he said, with an incomparably noble 
gesture. 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


435 


Sir, you are at liberty to withdraw, with your brave 
companions. Isabelle will have nothing to fear under 
her father’s protection, and this chateau will be her home 
for the present. Now that her birth is made known it is 
not fitting that my daughter should return to Paris with 
you. I thank you, though it costs me the hope of per- 
petuating my race, for having spared my son a disgrace- 
ful action — what do I say ? An abominable crime. I 
would rather have a blood-stain on my escutcheon than a 
dishonorable blot. Since Vallomb reuse was infamous in 
his conduct, you have done well to kill him. You have 
acted like a true gentleman, which I am assured that you 
are, in chivalrously protecting weakness, innocence and 
virtue. You are nobly in the right. That my daughter’s 
honor has been preserved unstained, I owe to you — and 
it compensates me for the loss of my son — at least my 
reason tells me that it should do so ; but the father’s 
heart rebels, and unjust ideas of revenge might arise, 
which I should find it difficult to conquer and set at rest. 
Therefore you had better go your way now, and what- 
ever the result may be I will not pursue or molest you. 
1 will try to forget that a terrible necessity turned your 
sword against my son’s life.” 

“ My lord,” said de Sigognac, with profound respect, 
“ I feel so keenly for your grief as a father, that I would 
have accepted any reproaches, no matter how bitter and 
unjust, from you, without one word of protest or feeling 
of resentment ; even though I cannot reproach myself for 
my share in this disastrous conflict. I do not wish to 
say anything to justify myself in your eyes, at the ex- 
pense of the unhappy Duke of Vallombreuse, but I beg 
you to believe that this quarrel was not of my seeking. 
He persistently threw himself in my way, and I have 


436 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


done everything I could to spare him, in more than one 
encounter. Even here it was his own blind fury that led 
to his being wounded. I leave Isabelle, who is dearer to 
me than my own soul, in your hands, and shall grieve my 
whole life long for this sad victory ; which is a veritable 
and terrible defeat for me, since it destroys my happiness. 
Ah ! if only I could have been slain myself, instead of 
your unhappy son ; it would have been better and happier 
for me.” 

He bowed with grave dignity to the prince, who court- 
eously returned his salute, exchanged a long look, elo- 
quent of passionate love and heart-breaking regret, with 
Isabelle, and went sadly down the grand staircase, fol- 
lowed by his companions — not however without glancing 
back more than once at the sweet girl he was leaving — 
who, to save herself from falling, leaned heavily against 
the railing of the landing, sobbing as if her heart would 
break, and pressing a handkerchief to her streaming eyes. 
And, so strange a thing is the human heart, the Baron 
de Sigognac departed much comforted by the bitter 
grief and tears of her whom he so devotedly loved and 
worshipped. He and his friends went on foot to the lit- 
tle wood where they had left their horses tied to the 
trees, found them undisturbed, mounted and returned to 
Paris. 

“ What do you think, my lord, of all these wonderful 
events ? ” said the tyrant, after a long silence, to de Si- 
gognac, beside whom he was riding. “ It all ends up like a 
regular tragi-comedy. Who would ever have dreamed, in 
the midst of the melee, of the sudden entrance upon the 
scene of the grand old princely father, preceded by 
torches, and coming to put a little wholesome restraint on 
the too atrociously outrageous pranks of his dissolute 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


437 


young son ? And then the recognition of Isabelle as his 
daughter, by means of the ring with a peculiar device of 
his own engraved upon it ; haven’t you seen exactly the 
same sort of thing on the stage ? But, after all, it is not 
so surprising perhaps as it seems at the first glance — since 
the theatre is only a copy of real life. Therefore, real 
life should resemble it, just as the original does the por- 
trait, eh ? I have always heard that our sweet little ac- 
tress was of noble birth. Blazius and old Madame 
Leonarde remember seeing the prince when he was de- 
voted to Cornelia. The duenna has often tried to per- 
suade Isabelle to seek out her father, but she is of too 
modest and gentle a nature to take a step of that kind ; 
not wishing to intrude upon a family that might reject 
her, and willing to content herself in her own lowly posi- 
tion.” 

“Yes, I knew alb about that,” rejoinecf de Sigognac, 
“ for Isabelle told me some time ago her mother’s history, 
and spoke of the ring ; but without attaching any impor- 
tance to the fact of her illustrious origin. It is very evi- 
dent, however, from the nobility and delicacy of her na- 
ture, without any other proof, that princely blood flows 
in her veins ; and also the refined, pure, elevated type 
of her beauty testifies to her descent. But what a terri- 
ble fatality that this cursed Vallomb reuse should turn 
out to be her brother ! There is a dead body between 
us now — a stream of blood separates us — and yet, I could 
not save her honor in any other way. Unhappy mortal 
that I am ! I have myself created the obstacle upon 
which my love is wrecked, and killed my hopes of future 
bliss with the very sword that defended the purity of the 
woman I adore. In guarding her I love, I have put her 
away from me forever. How could I go now and pre- 


438 


CAP 7^ A IN FPACASSE. 


sent myself to Isabelle with blood-stained hands ? Alas ! 
that the blood which I was forced to shed in her de- 
fence should have been her brother’s. Even if she, in 
her heavenly goodness, could forgive me, and look upon 
me without a feeling of horror, the prince, her father, 
would repulse and curse me as the murderer of his only 
son. I was born, alas ! under an unlucky star. ” 

“ Yes, it is all very sad and lamentable, certainly,” said 
the tyrant ; “ but worse entanglements than this have 
come out all right in the end. You must remember that 
the Duke of Vallombreuse is only half-brother to Isa- 
belle, and that they were aware of the relationship but 
for a few minutes before he fell dead at our feet ; which 
must make a great difference in her feelings. And be- 
sides, she hated that overbearing nobleman, who pursued 
her so cruelly with his violent and scandalous gallantries 
The prince hiiAself was far from being satisfied with his 
wretched son — who was ferocious as Nero, dissolute as 
Heliogabalus, and perverse as Satan himself, and who 
would have been hanged ten times over if he had not 
been a duke. Do not be so disheartened ! things may 
turn out a great deal better than you thi^ik now.” 

“ God grant it, my good Herode,” said de Sigognac 
fervently. “ But naturally I cannot feel happy about it. 
It would have been far better for all if I had been killed 
instead of the duke, since Isabelle would have been safe 
from his criminal pursuit under her father’s care. And 
then, I may as well tell you all, a secret horror froze the 
very marrow in my bones when I saw that handsome 
young man, but a moment before so full of life, fire, and 
passion, fall lifeless, pale and stiff at my feet. Herode, 
the death of a man is a grave thing, and though I can- 
not suffer from remorse for this one, since I have com- 


THE AMETHYST TING. 


439 


mitted no crime, still, all the time I see Vallombreuse 
before me, lying, motionless and ghastly, with the blood 
oozing slowly from his wound. It haunts me. 1 cannot 
drive the horrid sight away.” 

“ That is all wrong,” said the tyrant, soothingly — for 
the other was much excited — “ for you could not have 
done otherwise. Your conscience should not reproach 
you. You have acted throughout, from the very begin- 
ning to the end, like the noble gentleman that you are. 
These scruples are owing to exhaustion, to the feverish- 
ness due to the excitement you have gone through, and 
the chill from the night air. . We will gallop on swiftly 
in a moment, to set our blood flowing more freely, and 
drive away these sad thoughts of yours. But one thing 
must be promptly done ; you must quit Paris, forthwith, 
and retire for a time to some quiet retreat, until all this 
trouble is forgotten. The violent death of the Duke of 
Vallombreuse will make a stir at the court, and in the 
city, no matter how much pains may be taken to keep 
the facts from the public, and, although he was not at all 
popular, indeed very much the reverse, there will be 
much regret expressed, and you will probably be se- 
verely blamed. But now let us put spurs to these lazy 
steeds of ours, and try to get on a little faster.” 

While they are galloping towards Paris, we will return 
to the chateau — as quiet now as it had been noisy a lit- 
tle while before. In the young duke’s room, a candela- 
brum, with several branches, stood on a round table, so 
that the light from the candles fell upon the bed, where 
he lay with closed eyes, as motionless as a corpse, and 
as pale. The walls of the large chamber, above a high 
wainscot of ebony picked out with gold, were hung with 
superb tapestry, representing the history of Medea and 


440 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


Jason, with all its murderous and revolting details. Here, 
Medea was seen cutting the body of Pelias into pieces, 
under pretext of restoring his youth — there, the madly 
jealous woman and unnatural mother was murdering her 
own children ; in another panel she was fleeing, surfeited 
with vengeance, in her chariot, drawn by huge dragons 
breathing out flames of fire. The tapestry was certainly 
magnificent in quality and workmanship, rich in coloring, 
artistic in design, and very costly — but inexpressibly re- 
pulsive. These mythological horrors gave the luxurious 
room an intensely disagreeable, lugubrious aspect, and 
testified to the natural feropity and cruelty of the person 
who had selected them. Behind the bed the crimson 
silk curtains had been drawn apart, exposing to view the 
representation of Jason’s terrible conflict with the fierce, 
brazen bulls that guarded the golden fleece, and Vallom- 
breuse, lying senseless below them, looked as if he might 
have been one of their victims. Various suits of clothes, 
of the greatest richness and elegance, which had been 
successively tried on and rejected, were scattered about, 
and in a splendid great Japanese vase, standing on an 
ebony table near the head of the bed, was a bouquet of 
beautiful flowers, destined to replace the one Isabelle 
had already refused to receive — its glowing tints making 
a strange contrast with the death-like face, which was 
whiter than the snowy pillow it rested on. The prince, 
sitting in an arm-chair beside the bed, gazed at his un- 
conscious son with mournful intentness, and bent down 
from time to time to listen at the slightly parted lips ; 
but no fluttering breath came through them — all was 
still. Never had the young duke looked handsomer. 
The haughty, fierce expression, habitual with him, had 
given place to a serenity that was wonderfully beautiful, 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


441 


though so like death. As the father contemplated the 
perfect face and form, so soon to crumble into dust, he 
forgot, in his overwhelming grief, that the soul of a de- 
mon had animated it, and he thought sorrowfully of the 
great name that had been revered and honored for cen- 
turies past, but which now could not go down to centu- 
ries to come. More even than the death of his son did 
he mourn for the extinction of his house. 

Isabelle stood at the foot of the bed, with clasped 
hands, praying with her whole soul for this new found 
brother, who had expiated his crime with his life — the 
crime of loving too much, which woman pardons so easily. 

The prince, who had been for some time holding his 
son’s icy cold hand between both his own, suddenly 
thought that he could feel a slight warmth in it, and not 
realizing that he himself had imparted it, allowed himself 
to hope again. 

“ Will the doctor never come ? ” he cried, impatiently ; 
“ something may yet be done ; I am persuaded of it.” 

Even as he spoke the door opened, and the surgeon 
appeared, followed by an assistant carrying a case of 
instruments. He bowed to the prince, and without saying 
one word went straight to the bedside, felt the patient’s 
pulse, put his hand over his heart, and shook his head 
despondingly. However, to make sure, he drew a little 
mirror of polished steel from his pocket, removed it from 
its case, and held it for a moment over the parted lips ; 
then, upon examining its surface closely, he found that a 
slight dimness was visible upon it. Surprised at this un- 
expected indication of life, he repeated the experiment, 
and again the little mirror was dimmed — Isabelle and 
the prince meantime breathlessly watching every move- 
ment, and even the expression of the doctor’s face. 

19* 


442 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


Life is not entirely extinct/’ he said at last, turning 
to the anxious father, as he wiped the polished surface 
of his tiny mirror. “ The patient still breathes, and as 
long as there is life there is hope. But do not give 
yourself up to a premature joy that might render your 
grief more bitter afterwards. I only say that the Duke 
of Vallomb reuse has not as yet breathed his last ; that is 
all. Now, I am going to probe the wound, which perhaps 
is not fatal, as it did not kill him at once.” 

“ You must not stay here, Isabelle,” said the prince, 
tenderly ; “ such sights are too trying for a young girl 
like you. Go to your own room now, my dear, and I 
will let you know the doctor’s verdict as soon as he has 
pronounced it.” 

Isabelle accordingly withdrew, and was conducted to 
an apartment that had been made ready for her ; the 
one she had occupied being all in disorder after the terri- 
ble scenes that had been enacted there. 

The surgeon proceeded with his examination, and when 
it was finished said to the prince, “My lord, will you 
please to order a cot put up in that corner yonder, and 
have a light supper sent in for my assistant and myself ; 
we shall remain for the night with the Duke of Vallom- 
breuse, and take turns in watching him, I must be with 
him constantly, so as to note every symptom ; to com- 
bat promptly those that are unfavorable, and aid those 
that are the reverse. Your highness may trust everything 
to me, and feel assured that all that human skill and sci- 
ence can do towards saving your son’s life shall be faith- 
fully done. Let me advise you to go to your own room 
now and try to get some rest ; I think I may safely 
answer for my patient’s life until the morning.” 

A little calmed and much encouraged by this assur- 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


443 


ance, the prince retired to his own apartment, where 
every hour a servant brought him a bulletin from the 
sick-room. 

As to Isabelle, lying in her luxurious bed and vainly 
trying to sleep, she lived over again in imagination all 
the wonderful as well as terrible experiences of the last 
two days, and tried to realize her new position ; that she 
was now the acknowledged daughter of a mighty prince, 
than whom only royalty was higher ; that the dreaded 
Duke of Vallombreuse, so handsome and winning despite 
his perversity, was no longer a bold lover to be feared 
and detested, but a brother, whose passion, if he lived, 
would doubtless be changed into a pure and calm fra- 
ternal affection. This chateau, no longer her prison, had 
become her home, and she was treated by all with the 
respect and consideration due to the daughter of its 
master. From what had seemed to be her ruin had 
arisen her good fortune, and a destiny radiant, unhoped- 
for, and beyond her wildest flights of fancy. Yet, sur- 
rounded as she was by everything to make her happy and 
content, Isabelle was far from feeling so — she was aston- 
ished at herself for being sad and listless, instead of 
joyous and exultant — but the thought of de Sigognac, so 
infinitely dear to her, so far more precious than any 
other earthly blessing, weighed upon her heart, and the 
separation from him was a sorrow for which nothing 
could console her. Yet, now that their relative positions 
were so changed, might not a great happiness be in store 
for her ? Did not this very change bring her nearer in 
reality to that true, brave, faithful and devoted lover, 
though for the moment they were parted ? As a poor 
nameless actress she had refused to accept his offered 
hand, lest such an alliance should be disadvantageous to 


444 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


him and stand in the way of his advancement, but now — 
how joyfully would she give herself to him. The 
daughter of a great and powerful prince would be a 
fitting wife for the Baron de Sigognac. But if he were 
the murderer of her father’s only son ; ah ! then indeed 
they could never join hands over a grave. And even if 
the young duke should recover, he might cherish a lasting 
resentment for the man who had not only dared to op- 
pose his wishes and designs, but had also defeated and 
wounded him. As to the prince, good and generous 
though he was, still he might not be able to bring himself 
to look with favor upon the man who had almost de- 
prived him of his son. Then, too, he might desire some 
other alliance for his new-found daughter — it was not 
impossible — but in her inmost heart she promised herself 
to be faithful to her first and only love ; to take refuge in 
a convent rather than accept the hand of any other ; 
even though that other were as handsome as Apollo, and 
gifted as the prince of a fairy tale. Comforted by this 
secret vow, by which she dedicated her life and love to 
de Sigognac, whether their destiny should give them to 
each other or keep them asunder, Isabelle was just falling 
into a sweet sleep when a slight sound made her open 
her eyes, and they fell upon Chiquita, standing at the foot 
of the bed and gazing at her with a thoughtful, melan- 
choly air. 

“ What is it, my dear child ? ” said Isabelle, in her 
sweetest tones. “You did not go away with the others 
then ? I am glad ; and if you would like to stay here 
with me, Chiquita, I will keep you and care for you ten- 
derly ; as is justly due to you, my dear, for you have done 
a great deal for me.” 

“ I love you dearly,” answered Chiquita, “ but I can- 


THE AMETHYST RING. 


445 


not stay with you while Agostino lives ; he is my master, 
I must follow him. But I have one favor to beg before 
I leave you ; if you think that I have earned the pearl 
necklace now, will you kiss me ? No one ever did but 
you, and it was so sweet.” 

“ Indeed I will, and with all my heart,” said Isabelle, 
taking the child’s thin face between her hands and kiss- 
ing her warmly on her brown cheeks, which flushed 
crimson under the soft caress. 

“ And now, good-bye ! ” said Chiquita, when after a 
few moments of silence she had resumed her usual sang- 
froid. She turned quickly away, but, catching sight of 
the knife she had given Isabelle, which lay upon the 
dressing-table, she seized it eagerly, saying, “ Give me 
back my knife now ; you will not need it any more,” and 
vanished. 


1 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


The next morning found the young Duke of Vallom- 
breiise still living, though his life hung by so slender a 
thread, that the surgeon, who anxiously watched his every 
breath, feared from moment to moment that it mighty 
break. He was a learned and skilful man, this same 
Mattre Laurent, who only needed some favorable oppor- 
tunity to bring him into notice and make him as celebrated 
as he deserved to be. His remarkable talents and skill 
had only been exercised thus far “ in anima vili,” among 
the lower orders of society — whose living or dying was a 
matter of no moment whatever. But now had come at 
last the chance so long sighed for in secret, and he felt 
that the recovery of his illustrious patient was of para- 
mount importance to himself. The worthy doctor’s amour 
propre and ambition were both actively engaged in this 
desperate duel he was fighting with Death, and he set his 
teeth and determined that the victory must rest with him. 
In order to keep the whole glory of the triumph for him- 
self, he had persuaded the prince — not without difficulty 
— to renounce his intention of sending for the most cele- 
brated surgeons in Paris, assuring him that he himself was 
perfectly capable to do all that could be done, and pleading 
that nothing was more dangerous than a change of treat- 
ment in such a case as this. Maitre Laurent conquered, 
and feeling that there was now no danger of hrs being 

446 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


447 


pushed into the background, threw his whole heart and 
strength into the struggle ; yet many times during that 
anxious night he feared that his patient’s life was slipping 
away from his detaining grasp, and almost repented him 
of having assumed the entire responsibility. But with 
the morning came encouragement, and as the watchful 
surgeon stood at the bedside, intently gazing upon the 
ghastly face on the pillow, he murmured to himself, 

“ No, he will not die — his countenance has lost that 
terrible, hippocratic look that had settled upon it last 
evening when I first saw him — his pulse is stronger, his 
breathing free and natural. Besides, he must live — his 
recovery will make my fortune. I must and will tear him 
out of the grim clutches of Death — fine, handsome, young 
fellow that he is, and the heir and hope of his noble fam- 
ily — it will be long ere his tomb need be made ready to 
receive him. He will help me to get away from this 
wretched little village, where I vegetate ignobly, and eat 
my heart out day by day. Now for a bold stroke ! — at 
the risk of producing fever — at all risks — I shall venture to 
give him a dose of that wonder-working potion of mine.” 
Opening his case of medicines, he took out several small 
vials, containing different preparations — some red as a 
ruby, others green as an emerald — this one yellow as vir- 
gin gold, that bright and colorless as a diamond — and on 
each one a small label bearing a Latin inscription. 
Maitre Laurent, though he was perfectly sure of himself, 
carefully read the inscriptions upon those he had selected 
several times over, held up the tiny vials one after 
another, where a ray of sunshine struck upon them, and 
looked admiringly through the bright transparent liquids 
they contained — then, measuring with the utmost care a 
few drops from each, compounded a potion after a secret 


448 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


recipe of his own ; which he made a mystery of, and re- 
fused to impart to his fellow practitioners. Rousing his 
sleeping assistant he ordered him to raise the patient’s 
head a little, whilst, with a small spatula, he pried the 
firmly set teeth apart sufficiently to allow the liquid he 
had prepared to trickle slowly into the mouth. As it 
reached the throat there was a spasmodic contraction 
that gave Mattre Laurent an instant of intense anxiety — 
but it was only momentary, and the remainder of the 
dose was swallowed easily and with almost instantaneous v 
effect. A slight tinge of color showed itself in the pallid 
cheeks, the eyelids trembled and half unclosed, and the 
hand that had lain inert and motionless upon the counter- 
pane stirred a little. Then the young duke heaved a deep 
sigh, and opening his eyes looked vacantly about him, : 
like One awakening from a dream, or returning from those 
mysterious regions whither the soul takes flight when un- 
consciousness holds this mortal frame enthralled. Only ^ 
a glance, and the long eyelashes fell again upon the pale J 
cheeks — but a wonderful change had passed over the 
countenance. } 

I staked everything on that move,” said Maitre t, 
Laurent to himself, with a long breath of relief, “ and I I 

have won. It was either kill or cure — and it has not ). 

killed him* All glory be to ^sculapius, Hygeia and i 
Hippocrates ! ” 5 

At this moment a hand noiselessly put aside the hang- | 
ings over the door, and the venerable head of the prince i 
appeared — looking ten years older for the agony and I 
dread of the terrible night just passed. } 

“ How is he, Maitre Laurent ? ” he breathed, in ? 
broken, scarcely audible tones. | 

The surgeon put his finger to his lipS; and with the j 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


449 


Other hand pointed to the young duke's face— still raised 
a little on the pillows, and no longer wearing its death- 
like look ; then, with the light step habitual with those 
who are much about the sick, he went over to the prince, 
still standing on the threshold, and drawing him gently 
outside and away from the door, said in a low voice, 
“ Your highness can see that the patient’s condition, so 
far from growing worse, has decidedly improved. Cer- 
tainly he is not out of danger yet — his state is very critical 
— but unless some new and totally unforeseen complica- 
tion should arise, which I shall use every effort to prevent, 
I think that we can pull him through, and that he will 
be able to enjoy life again as if he had never been hurt.” 

The prince’s care-worn face brightened and his fine 
eyes flashed at these hopeful words ; he stepped forward 
to enter the sick-room, but Maitre Laurent respectfully 
opposed his doing so. 

‘‘ Permit me, my lord, to prevent your approaching 
your son’s bedside just now — doctors are often very dis- 
agreeable, you know, and have to impose trying con- 
ditions upon those to whom their patients are dear. I 
beseech you not to go near the Duke of Vallombreuse at 
present. Your beloved presence might, in the excessively 
weak and exhausted condition of my patient, cause 
dangerous agitation. Any strong emotion would be in- 
stantly fatal to him, his hold upon life is still so slight. 
Perfect tranquillity is his only safety. If all goes well — 
as I trust and believe that it will — in a few days he will 
have regained his strength in a measure, his wound will 
be healing, and you can probably be with him as much 
as you like, without any fear of doing him harm. I know 
that this is very trying to your highness, but, believe me, 
it is necessary to your son’s well-being.” 


450 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


The prince, very much relieved, and yielding readily 
to the doctor’s wishes, returned to his own apartment ; 
where he occupied himself with some religious reading 
until noon, when the major-domo came to announce that 
dinner was on the table. 

“ Go and tell my daughter, the Comtesse Isabelle de 
Lineuil — such is the title by which she is to be addressed 
henceforth — that I request her to join me at dinner,” 
said the prince to the major-domo, who hastened off to 
obey this order. 

Isabelle went quickly down the grand staircase with a 
light step, and smiled to herself as she passed through 
the noble hall where she had been so frightened by the 
two figures in armor, on the occasion of her bold explor- 
ing expedition the first night after her arrival at the 
chateau. Everything looked very different now — the 
bright sunshine was pouring in at the windows, and large 
fires of juniper, and other sweet-smelling woods, had com- 
pletely done away with the damp, chilly, heavy atmos- 
phere that pervaded the long disused rooms when she 
was in them before. In the splendid dining-room 
she found a table sumptuously spread, and her father 
already seated at it, in his large, high-backed, richly 
carved chair, behind which stood two lackeys, in superb 
liveries. As she approached him she made a most grace- 
ful curtsey, which had nothing in the least theatrical 
about it, and would have met with approbation even in 
courtly circles. A servant was holding the chair des- 
tined for her, and with some timidity, but no apparent 
embarrassment, she took her seat opposite to the prince. 
She was served with soup and wine, and then with course 
after course of delicate, tempting viands ; but she could 
not eat — her heart was too full — her nerves were still 


A FAMILY PARTY, 


451 


quivering, from the terror and excitement of the preced- 
ing day and night. She was dazzled and agitated by 
this sudden change of fortune, anxious about her brother, 
now lying at the point of death, and, above all, troubled 
and grieved at her separation from her lover — so she 
could only make a pretence of dining, and played lan- 
guidly with the food on her plate. 

“You are eating nothing, my dear comtesse” said the 
prince, who had been furtively watching her ; “ I pray 
you try to do better with this bit of partridge I am send- 
ing you.” 

At this title of comtesse^ spoken as a matter of course, 
and in such a kind, tendef tone, Isabelle looked up at 
the prince with astonishment written in her beautiful, 
deep blue eyes, which seemed to plead timidly for an 
explanation. 

“Yes, Comtesse de Lineuil ; it is the title which goes 
with an estate I have settled on you, my dear child, and 
which has long been destined for you. The name of Isa- 
belle alone, charming though it be, is not suitable for my 
daughter.” 

Isabelle, yielding to the impulse of the moment — as the 
servants had retired and she was alone with her father — 
rose, and going to his side, knelt down and kissed his 
hand, in token of gratitude for his delicacy and generosity. 

“ Rise, my child,” said he, very tenderly, and much 
moved, “ and return to your place. What I have done 
is only just. It calls for no thanks. I should have done 
it long ago if it had been in my power. In the terrible 
circumstances that have reunited us, my dear daughter, 
I can see the finger of Providence, and through them I 
have learned your worth. To your virtue alone it is due 
that a horrible crime was not committed, and I love and 


452 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


honor you for it ; even though it may cost me the loss of 
my only son. But God will be merciful and preserve his 
life, so that he may repent of having so persecuted and 
outraged the purest innocence. Maitre Laurent, in 
whom I have every confidence, gives me some hope this 
morning ; and when I looked at Vallombreuse — from the 
threshold of his room only — I could see that the seal of 
death was no longer upon his face.” 

They were interrupted by the servants, bringing in 
water to wash their fingers, in a magnificent golden bowl, 
and this ceremony having been duly gone through with, 
the prince threw down his napkin and led the way into 
the adjoining salon, signing to Isabelle to follow him. He 
seated himself in a large arm-chair in front of the blazing 
wood fire, and bidding Isabelle place herself close beside 
him, took her hand tenderly between both of his, and 
looked long and searchingly at this lovely young daughter, 
so strangely restored to him. There was much of sad- 
ness mingled with the joy that shone in his eyes, for he 
was still very anxious about his son, whose life was in 
such jeopardy ; but as he gazed upon Isabelle’s sweet 
face the joy predominated, and he smiled very lovingly 
upon the new comtesse, as he began to talk to her of 
long past days. 

“Doubtless, my beloved child, in the midst of the 
strange events that have brought us together, in such an 
odd, romantic, almost supernatural manner, the thought 
has suggested itself to your mind, that during all the 
years that have passed since your infancy I have not 
sought you out, and that chance alone has at last restored 
the long lost child to her neglectful father. But you 
are so good and noble that I know you would not 
dwell upon such an idea, and I hope that you do not 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


453 


SO misjudge me as to think me capable of such culpable 
neglect, now that you are getting a little better acquainted 
with me. As you must know, your mother, Cornelia, 
was excessively proud and high-spirited. She resented 
every affront, whether intended as such or not, with ex- 
traordinary violence, and when I was obliged, in spite 
of my most heartfelt wishes, to separate myself from her, 
and reluctantly submit to a marriage that I could not 
avoid, she obstinately refused to allow me to provide for 
her maintenance in comfort and luxury, as well as for 
you and your education. All that I gave her, and set- 
tled on her, she sent back to me with the most exagge- 
rated disdain, and inexorably refused to receive again. 
I could not but admire, though I so deplored, her lofty 
spirit, and proud rejection of every benefit which I de- 
sired to confer upon her, and I left in the hands of a 
trusty agent, for her, the deeds of all the landed prop- 
erty and houses I had destined for her, as well as the 
money and jewels — so that she could at any time reclaim 
them, if she would — hoping that she might see fit to 
change her mind when the first flush of anger was over. 
But, to my great chagrin, she persisted in her refusal 
of everything, and changing her name, fled from Paris 
into the provinces ; where she was said to have joined a 
roving band of comedians. Soon after that I was sent 
by my sovereign on several foreign missions that kept me 
long away from France, and I lost all trace of her and 
you. In vain were all my efforts to find you both, until 
at last I heard that she was dead. Then I redoubled 
my diligence in the search for my little motherless 
daughter, whom I had so tenderly loved ; but all in 
vain. No trace of her could I find. I heard, indeed, of 
many children among these strolling companies, and 


454 


CAPTAIN PPACASSE. 


carefully investigated each case that came to my knowl- 
edge ; but it always ended in disappointment. Several 
women, indeed, tried to palm off their little girls upon me 
as my child, and I had to be on my guard against fraud ; 
but I never failed to sift the matter thoroughly, even 
though I knew that deceit was intended, lest I should 
unawares reject the dear little one I was so anxiously 
seeking. At last I was almost forced to conclude that 
you too had perished ; yet a secret intuition always told 
me that you were still in the land of the living. I 
used to sit for hours and think of how sweet and love- 
ly you were in infancy ; how your little rosy fingers 
used to play with and pull my long moustache — which 
was black then, my dear — when I leaned over to kiss you 
in your cradle — recalling all your pretty, engaging little 
baby tricks, remembering how fond and proud I was of 
you, and grieving over the loss that I seemed to feel 
more and more acutely as the years went on. The birth 
of my son only made me long still more intensely for 
you, instead of consoling jne for your loss, or banish- 
ing you from my memory, and when I saw him decked 
with rich laces and ribbons, like a royal babe, and play- 
ing with his jewelled rattle, I would think with an 
aching heart that perhaps at that very moment my 
dear little daughter was suffering from cold and hun- 
ger, or the unkind treatment of those who had her in 
charge. Then I regretted deeply that I had not taken 
you away from your mother in the very beginning, and 
had you brought up as my daughter should be — but 
when you were born I did not dream of our parting. 
As years rolled on new anxieties tortured me. I knew 
that you would be beautiful, and how much you would 
have to suffer from the dissolute men who hover about 


; 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


455 


all young and pretty actresses — my blood would boil as 
I thought of the insults and affronts to which you might 
be subjected, and from which I was powerless to shield 
you — no words can tell what I suffered. Affecting a 
taste for the theatre that I did not possess, I never 
let an opportunity pass to see every company of players 
that I could hear of — hoping to find you at last among 
them. But although I saw numberless young actresses, 
about your age, not one of them could have been you, 
my dear child — of that I was sure. So at last I aban- 
doned the hope of finding my long lost daughter, though 
it was. a bitter trial to feel that I must do so. The prin- 
cess, my wife, had died three years after our marriage, 
leaving me only one child — Vallombreuse — whose un- 
governable disposition has always given me much trouble 
and anxiety. A few days ago, at Saint Germain, I heard 
some of the courtiers speak in terms of high praise 
of Herode’s troupe, and what they said made me 
determine to go and see one of their representations 
without delay, while my heart beat high with a new 
hope — for they especially lauded a young actress, called 
Isabelle ; whose graceful, modest, high-bred air they 
declared to be irresistible, and her acting everything 
that could be desired — adding that she was as virtu- 
ous as she was beautiful, and that the boldest liber- 
tines respected her immaculate purity. Deeply agitated 
by a secret presentiment, I hastened back to Paris, 
and went to the theatre that very night. There I saw 
you, my darling, and though it would seem to be im. 
possible for even a father’s eye to recognize, in the beau- 
tiful young woman of twenty, the babe that he had 
kissed in its cradle, and had never beheld since, still I 
knew you instantly — the very moment you came in sight 


456 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


— and I perceived, with a heart swelling with happiness 
and thankfulness, that you were all that I could wish. 
Moreover, I recognized the face of an old actor, who 
had been I knew in the troupe that Cornelia joined when 
she fled from Paris, and I resolved to address myself first 
to him ; so as not to startle you by too abrupt a disclos- 
ure of my claims upon you. But when I sent the next 
morning to the hotel in the Rue Dauphine, I learned 
that Herode’s troupe had just gone to give a repre- 
sentation at a chateau in the environs of Paris, and 
would be absent three days. I should have endeav- 
ored to wait patiently for their return, had not a brave 
fellow, who used to be in my service, and has my in- 
terest at heart, come to inform me that the Duke of 
Vallombreuse, being madly in love with a young actress 
named Isabelle, who resisted his suit with the utmost 
firmness and determination, had arranged to gain forci- 
ble possession of her in the course of the day’s journey 
— the expedition into the country being gotten up for 
that express purpose— that he had a band of hired 
ruffians engaged to carry out liis nefarious purpose and 
bring his unhappy victim to this chateau — and that he 
had come to warn me, fearing lest serious consequences 
should ensue to my son, as the young actress would be 
accompanied by brave and faithful friends, who were 
armed, and would defend her to the death. This terrible 
news threw me into a frightful state of anxiety and ex- 
citement. Feeling sure, as I did, that you were my own 
daughter, I shuddered at the thought of the horrible 
crime that I might not be in time to prevent, and without 
one moment’s delay set out for this place — suffering such 
agony by the way as I do not like even to think of. You 
were already delivered from danger when I arrived, as you 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


457 


know, and without having suffered anything beyond the 
alarm and dread— which must have been terrible indeed, 
my poor child ! And then, the amethyst ring on your 
finger confirmed, past any possibility of doubt, what my 
heart had told me, when first my eyes beheld you in the 
theatre.” 

“ I pray you to believe, dear lord and father,” answered 
Isabelle, “that I have never accused you of anything, 
nor considered myself neglected. Accustomed from my 
infancy to the roving life of the troupe I was with, I 
neither knew nor dreamed of any other. The little 
knowledge that I had of the world made me realize that 
I should be wrong in wishing to force myself upon 
an illustrious family, obliged doubtless by powerful rea- 
sons, of which I knew nothing, to leave me in obscurity. 
The confused remembrance I had of my origin some- 
times inspired me — when I was very young — with a cer- 
tain pride, and I would say to myself, when I noticed the 
disdainful air with which great ladies looked down upon 
us poor actresses, I also am of noble birth. But I out- 
grew those fancies, and only preserved an invincible self- 
respect, which I have always cherished. Nothing in the 
world would have induced me to distionor the illustrious 
blood that flows in my veins. The disgraceful license of 
the coulisses, and the loathsome gallantries lavished upon 
all actresses, even those who are not comely, disgusted 
me from the first, and I have lived in the theatre almost 
as if in a convent. The good old pedant has been like a 
watchful father to me, and as for Herode, he would have 
severely chastised any one who dared to touch me with 
the tip of his finger, or even to pronounce a vulgar word 
in my presence. Although they are only obscure actors, 
they are very honorable, worthy men, and I trust you will 
20 


458 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


be good enough to Help them if they ever find themselves 
in need of assistance. I owe it partly to them that I can 
lift my forehead for your kiss without a blush of shame, 
and proudly declare myself worthy, so far as purity is 
concerned, to be your daughter. My only regret is to 
have been the innocent cause of the misfortune that has 
overtaken the duke, your son. I could have wished to 
enter your family, my dear father, under more favorable 
auspices. ” 

‘‘You have nothing to reproach yourself with, my 
sweet child, for you could not divine these mysteries, 
which have been suddenly disclosed by a combination of 
circumstances that would be considered romantic and 
improbable, even in a novel ; and my joy at finding you 
as worthy in every way to be my beloved and honored 
daughter, as if you had not lived amid all the dangers of 
such a career, makes up for the pain and anxiety caused 
by the illness and danger of my son. Whether he lives or 
dies, I shall never for one moment blame you for any- 
thing in connection with his misfortune. In any event, it 
was your virtue and courage that saved .him from being 
guilty of a crime that I shudder to contemplate. And 
now, tell me, who was the handsome young man among 
your liberators who seemed to direct the attack, and who 
wounded Vallombreuse ? An actor doubtless, though it 
appeared to me that he had a very noble bearing, and 
magnificent courage.” 

“Yes, my dear father,” Isabelle replied, with a most 
lovely and becoming blush, “he is an actor, a member of 
our troupe ; but if I may venture to betray his secret, 
which is already known to the Duke of Vallombreuse, I 
will tell you that the so-called Captain Fracasse con- 
ceals under his mask a noble countenance, as indeed you 



‘‘‘AND PRAY, WHAT IS THE REAL NAME OF THIS VALIANT 

CHAMPION? ’ ” 





— A * • 


r-'-^ r 




i''' -. • ’ V ■ 


9 > 


r 


4 -.*^ 


:-f 



♦/ 




» 1 ^ 

■ ‘ • .V '-ik\’ 




r. * '« 



.'t 


f 







•r 


-A ^ ^ 


[, • * tl 'i JltC^ 


. 's. 





1 ^ i 

t V .. r M 


• «5 


‘‘t.-'*''-' ' J, 

-- r ' _i.fc 




4 ^ 




> ' ’#MJ* - .' 


• V 








.. -: I 



^ ' 4 .V 




- ^si I 


» : 





■V^- 



f. 


ru 


f 


Li. 






A FAMILY PARTY. 459 

already know, and under his theatrical pseudonym, the 
name of an illustrious family.” 

“True!” rejoined the prince, “I have heard some- 
thing about that already. It would certainly have been 
astonishing if an ordinary, low-born actor had ventured 
upon so bold and rash a course as running counter to a 
Duke of Vallombreuse, and actually entering into a com- 
bat with him ; it needs noble blood for such daring acts. 
Only a gentleman can conquer a gentleman, just as a 
diamond can only be cut by a diamond.” 

The lofty pride of the aged prince found much con- 
solation in the knowledge that his son had not been at- 
tacked and wounded by an adversary of low origin ; 
there was nothing compromising in a duel between equals, 
and he drew a deep breath of relief at thought of it. 

“ And pray, what is the real name of this valiant cham- 
pion ? ” smilingly asked the prince, with a roguish twinkle 
in his dark eyes — “ this dauntless knight, and brave de- 
fender of innocence and purity ! ” 

“ He is the Baron de Sigognac,” Isabelle replied blush- 
ingly, with a slight trembling perceptible in her sweet, 
low voice. “ I reveal his name fearlessly to you, my 
dear father, for you are both too just and too generous to 
visit upon his head the disastrous consequences of a vic- 
tory that he deplores.” 

“ De Sigognac ? ” said the prince. “ I thought that 
ancient and illustrious family was extinct. Is he not from 
Gascony ? ” 

“ Ye^ ; his home is in the neighborhood of Dax.” 

“ Exactly— and the de Sigognacs have an appropriate 
coat of arms— three golden storks on an azure field. 
Yes, it is as I said, an ancient and illustrious family— one 
of the oldest and most honorable in France. Palamede 


460 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


de Sigognac figured gloriously in the first crusade. A 
Raimbaud de Sigognac, the father of this young man 
without doubt, was the devoted friend and companion of 
Henri IV., in his youth, but was not often seen at court 
in later years. It was said that he was embarrassed finan- 
cially, I remember.” 

“ So much so, that when our troupe sought refuge of a 
stormy night under his roof, we found his son living in a 
half ruined chateau, haunted by bats and owls, where 
his youth was passing in sadness and misery. We per- 
suaded him to come away with us, fearing that he would 
die there of starvation and melancholy — but I never saw 
misfortune so bravely borne.” 

“ Poverty is no disgrace,” said the prince, “ and any 
noble house that has preserved its honor unstained may 
rise again from its ruins to its ancient height of glory 
and renown. But why did not the young baron apply to 
some of his father’s old friends in his distress ? or lay his 
case before the king, who is the natural refuge of all 
loyal gentlemen under such circumstances ? ” 

“ Misfortunes such as his are apt to breed timidity, 
even with the bravest,” Isabelle replied, “ and pride de- 
ters many a man from betraying his misery to the world. 
When the Baron de Sigognac consented to accompany 
us to Paris, he hoped to find some opportunity there to 
retrieve his fallen fortunes ; but it has not presented itself. 
In order not to be an expense to the troupe, he gener- 
ously and nobly insisted upon taking the place of one of 
the actors, who died on the way, and who was a great 
loss to us. As he could appear upon the stage always 
masked, he surely did not compromise his dignity by it.” 

“ Under this theatrical disguise, I think that, without 
being a sorcerer, I can detect a little bit of romance, eh ? ” 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


461 


said the prince, with a mischievous smile. But I will 
not inquire too closely ; I know how good and true you 
are well enough not to take alarm at any respectful trib- 
ute paid to your charms. I have not been with you long 
enough yet as a father, my sweet child, to venture upon 
sermonizing.” 

As he paused, Isabelle raised her lovely eyes, in which 
shone the purest innocence and the most perfect loyalty, 
to his, and met his questioning gaze unflinchingly. The 
rosy flush which the first mention of de Sigognac’s name 
had called up was gone, and her countenance showed no 
faintest sign of embarrassment or shame. In her pure 
heart the most searching looks of a father, of God him- 
self, could have found nothing to condemn. Just at this 
point the doctor’s assistant was announced, who brought 
a most favorable report from the sick-room. He was 
charged to tell the prince that his son’s condition was 
eminently satisfactory — a marked change for the better 
having taken place ; and that Maitre Laurent considered 
the great danger past — believing that his recovery was 
now only a question of time. 

A few days later, Vallombreuse, propped up on his pil- 
lows, received a visit from his faithful and devoted friend, 
the Chevalier de Vidalinc, whom he had not been per- 
mitted to see earlier. The prince was sitting by the bed- 
side, affectionately watching every flitting expression on 
his son’s face, which was pathetically thin and pale, but 
handsomer than ever ; because the old haughty, fierce 
look had vanished, and a soft light, that had never been 
in them before, shone in his beautiful eyes, whereat 
his father’s heart rejoiced exceedingly. Isabelle stood 
at the other side of the bed, and the young duke had 
clasped his thin, startlingly white fingers round her hand. 


462 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


As he was forbidden to speak, save in monosyllables — 
because of his injured lung — he took this means of testi- 
fying his sympathy with her, who had been the involun- 
tary cause of his being wounded and in danger of los- 
ing his life, and thus made her understand that he 
cherished no resentments. The affectionate brother had 
replaced the fiery lover, and his illness, in calming his 
ardent passion, had contributed not a little to make the 
transition a less difficult one than it could possibly have 
been otherwise. Isabelle was now for him really and only 
the Comtesse de Lineuil, his dear sister. He nodded in a 
friendly way to Vidalinc, and disengaged his hand for a 
moment from Isabelle’s to give it to him — it was all that 
the doctor would allow — but his eyes were eloquent 
enough to make up for his enforced silence. 

In the course of a few weeks, Vallombreuse, who had 
gained strength rapidly, was able to leave his bed and 
recline upon a lounge near the open window ; so as to en- 
joy the mild, delightful air of spring, that brought color 
to his cheeks and light to his eyes. Isabelle was often 
with him, and read aloud for hours together to entertain 
him ; as Maitre Laurent’s orders were strict that he should 
not talk, even yet, any more than was actually necessary. 
One day, when Isabelle had finished a chapter in the vol- 
ume from which she was reading to him, and was about 
to begin another, he interrupted her, and said, “ My dear 
sister, that book is certainly very amusing, and the author 
a man of remarkable wit and talent ; but I must confess 
that I prefer your charming conversation to your delight- 
ful reading. Do you know, I would not have believed it 
possible to gain so much, in losing all hope of what I 
desired more ardently than I had ever done anything in 
my whole life before. The brother is very much more 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


463 


kindly treated than the suitor — are you aware of that ? 
You are as sweet and amiable to the one as you were 
severe and unapproachable to the other. I find in 
this calm, peaceful affection, charms that I had never 
dreamed of, and you reveal to me a new side of the femi- 
nine character, hitherto utterly unknown to me. Carried 
away by fiery passions, and irritated to madness by any 
opposition, I was like the wild huntsman of the ancient 
legend, who stopped for no obstacle, but rode recklessly 
over everything in his path. I looked upon whatever 
beautiful woman I was in pursuit of as my legitimate 
prey. I scouted the very idea of failure, and deemed 
myself irresistible. At the mention of virtue, I only 
shrugged my shoulders, and I think I may say, without 
too much conceit, to the only woman I ever pursued who 
did not yield to me, that I had reason not to put much 
faith in it. My mother died when I was a mere baby ; 
you, my sweet sister, were not near me, and I have never 
known, until now, all the purity, tenderness, and sublime 
courage of which your sex is capable. I chanced to see you. 
An irresistible attraction, in which, perhaps, the unknown 
tie of blood had its influence, drew me to you, and for the 
first time in my life a feeling of respect and esteem min- 
gled with my passion. Your character delighted me, 
even when you drove me to despair. I could not but 
secretly approve and admire the modest and courteous 
firmness with which you rejected my homage. The more 
decidedly you repulsed me, the more I felt that you were 
worthy of my adoration. Anger and admiration suc- 
ceeded each other in my heart, and even in my most 
violent paroxysms of rage I always respected you. I 
descried the angel in the woman, and bowed to the as- 
cendency of a celestial purity. Now I am happy and 


464 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


blessed indeed ; for I have in you precisely what I 
needed, without knowing it — this pure affection, free 
from all earthly taint — unalterable — eternal. I possess at 
last the love of a soul.” 

“ Yes, my dear brother, it is yours,” Isabelle replied ; 
“ and it is a great source of happiness to me that I am 
able to assure you of it. You have in me a devoted sister 
and friend, who will love you doubly to make up for 
the years we have lost — above all, now that you have 
promised me to correct the faults that have so grieved 
and alarmed our dear father, and to exhibit only the good 
qualities of which you have plenty.” 

‘‘Oh ! you little preacher,” cried Vallombreuse, with 
a bright, admiring smile ; “ how you take advantage of 
my weakness. However, it is perfectly true that I have 
been a dreadful monster, but I really do mean to do 
better in future — if not for love of virtue itself, at least 
to avoid seeing my charming sister put on^ a severe, 
disapproving air, at some atrocious escapade of mine. 
Still, I fear that I shall always be Folly, as you will be 
Reason.” 

“ If you will persist in paying me such high-flown 
compliments,” said Isabelle, with a little shrug of her 
pretty shoulders, “ I shall certainly resume the reading, 
and you will have to listen to a long story that the cor- 
sair is just about to relate to the beautiful princess, his 
captive, in the cabin of his galley.” 

“ Oh, no ! surely I do not deserve such a severe punish- 
ment as that. Even at the risk of appearing garrulous, I 
do so want to talk a little. That confounded doctor has 
kept me mute long enough in all conscience, and I am 
tired to death of having the seal of silence upon my 
lips, like a statue of Harpocrates.” / 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


465 


But I am afraid you may do yourself harm ; remem- 
ber that your wound is scarcely healed yet, and the in- 
jured lung is still very irritable. Maitre Laurent laid 
such stress upon my reading to you, so that you should 
keep quiet, and give your chest a good chance to get 
strong and well again.” 

“ Maitre Laurent doesn’t know what he’s talking about, 
and only wants to prolong his own importance to me. 
My lungs work as well as ever they did. I feel perfectly 
myself again, and I’ve a great mind to order my horse 
and go for a canter in the forest.” 

“You had better talk than do such a wildly imprudent 
thing as that ; it is certainly less dangerous.” 

“ I shall very soon be about again, my sweet little 
sister, and then I shall have the pleasure of introducing 
you into the society suitable to your rank — where your 
incomparable grace and beauty will create a sensation, 
and bring crowds of adorers to your feet. From among 
them you will be able to select a husband, eh ? ” 

“ I can have no desire to do anything of that kind, 
Vallombreuse, and pray do not think this the foolish dec- 
laration of a girl who would be very sorry to be taken at 
her word. I am entirely in earnest, I do assure you. I 
have bestowed my hand so often in the last act of the 
pieces I have played that I am in no hurry to do it in 
reality. I do not wish for anything better than to remain 
quietly here with the prince and yourself.” 

“ But, my dear girl, a father and brother will not 
always content you — do not think it ! Such affection 
cannot satisfy the demands of the heart forever.” 

“ It will be enough for me, howevet, and if some day 
they fail me, I can take refuge in a convent.” 

“ Heaven forbid ! that would be carrying austerity too 
20* 


466 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


far indeed. I pray you never to mention it again, if you 
have any regard for my peace of mind. And now tell 
me, my sweet little sister, what do you think of my dear 
friend, the Chevalier de Vidalinc ? does not he seem to 
be possessed of every qualification necessary to make a 
good husband ? ” 

“ Doubtless, and the woman that he marries will have 
a right to consider herself fortunate — but however 
charming and desirable your friend may be, my dear 
Vallombreuse, I shall never be that woman.” 

“Well, let him pass, then — but tell me what you 
think of the Marquis de TEstang, who came to see me 
the other day, and gazed spell-bound at my lovely sister 
all the time he was here. He was so overwhelmed by 
your surpassing grace, so dazzled by your exquisite 
beauty, that he was struck dumb, and when he tried to 
pay you pretty compliments, did nothing but stammer 
and blush. Aside from this timidity, which made him 
appear to great disadvantage, and which your ladyship 
should readily excuse, since you yourself were the cause | 

of it, the marquis is an accomplished and estimable ■ 

gentleman. He is handsome, young, of high birth and •; 
great wealth. He would do capitally for my fair sister, 
and is sure to address himself to the prince — if indeed ! 
he has not already done so — as an aspirant to the honor 
of an alliance with her.” : 

“ As I have the honor of belonging to this illustrious • 
family,” said Isabelle a little impatiently, for she was ex- ^ 

ceedingly annoyed by this banter, “ too much humility ' 

would not become me, therefore , I will not say that I 
consider myself unworthy of such an alliance ; but, if the ! 

Marquis de I’Estang should ask my hand of my father, I ; 

would refuse him. I have told you, my dear brother, J 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


467 


more than once, that I do not wish to marry — and 
you know it too — so pray don’t tease me any more 
about it.” 

“ Oh ! what a fierce, determined, little woman is this 
fair sister of mine. Diana herself was not more inac- 
cessible, in the forests and valleys of Haemus— yet, if the 
naughty mythological stories may be believed, she did 
at last smile upon a certain Endymion. You are vexed, 
because I casually propose some suitable candidates 
for the honor of your hand ; but you need not be, for, 
if they do not please you, we will hunt up one who 
will.” 

I am not vexed, my dear brother, but you are cer- 
tainly talking far too much for an invalid, and I shall tell 
Maitre Laurent to reprimand you, or not permit you to 
have the promised bit of fowl for your supper.” 

“ Oh ! if that’s the case I will desist at once,” said 
Vallombreuse, with a droll air of submission, “ for I’m as 
hungry as an ogre — but rest assured of one thing, my 
charming sister ! No one shall select your husband but 
myself.” 

To put an end to this teasing, Isabelle began to read 
the corsair’s long story, without paying any attention to 
the indignant protests that were made, and Vallombreuse, 
to revenge himself, finally closed his eyes and pretended 
to be asleep ; which feigned slumber soon became real, 
and Isabelle, perceiving that it was so, put aside her book 
and quietly stole away. 

This conversation, in which, under all his mischievous 
banter, the duke seemed to have a definite and serious 
purpose in view, worried Isabelle very much, in spite ol 
her efforts to banish it from her mind. Could it be that 
Vallombreuse was nursing a secret resentment against 


468 


CAPTAIN FKACASSE. 


de Sigognac ? He had never once spoken his name, 
or referred to him in any way, since he was wounded by ; 
him ; and was he trying to place an insurmountable barrier ; 
between his sister and the baron, by bringing about her 
marriage with another ? or was he simply trying to find I 
out whether the actress, transformed to a countess, had « 
changed in sentiments as well as in rank ? Isabelle could - 
not answer these questions satisfactorily to herself. As , 

she was the duke’s sister, of course the rivalry between \ 

him and de Sigognac could no longer exist ; but, on the ;■ 
other hand, it was difficult to imagine that such a haughty, i 
vindictive character as the young duke’s could have for- i 
gotten, or forgiven, the ignominy of his first defeat at ^ 

the baron’s hands, and still less of the second more ^ 

disastrous encounter. Although their relative positions ^ 
were changed, Vallombreuse, in his heart, would doubtless J 
always hate de Sigognac — even if he had magnanimity S 
enough to forgive him, it could scarcely be expected i 

that he should also love him, and be willing to welcome i 

him as a member of his family. No, all hope of such a ] 

reconciliation must be abandoned. Besides, she feared • 
that the prince, her father, would never be able to regard 
with favor the man who had imperilled the life of his 
only son. These sad thoughts threw poor Isabelle into ' 
a profound melancholy, which she in vain endeavored to 
shake off. As long as she considered that her position 
as an actress would be an obstacle to de Sigognac, she ' 
had resolutely repelled the idea of a marriage with him, 
but now that an unhoped-for, undreamed-of stroke of 
destiny had heaped upon her all the good things that 
heart could desire, she would have loved to reward, with 
the gift of her hand, and fortune, the faithful lover who had 
addressed her when she was poor and lowly — it seemed 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


469 


an actual meanness, to her generous spirit, not to share her 
prosperity with the devoted companion of her misery. 
But all that she could do was to be faithful to him — for 
she dared not say a word in his favor, either to the prince 
or to Vallombreuse. 

Very soon the young duke was well enough t© join his 
father and sister at meals, and he manifested such re- 
spectful and affectionate deference to the prince, and 
such an ingenuous and delicate tenderness towards Isa- 
belle, that it was evident he had, in spite of his apparent 
frivolity, a mind and character very superior to what one 
would have expected to find in such a licentious, ungov- 
ernable youth as he had been, and which gave promise 
of an honorable and useful manhood. Isabelle took her 
part modestly — but with a very sweet dignity, that sat 
well upon her — in the conversation at the table, and in 
the salouy and her remarks were so to the point, so witty, 
and so apropos, that the prince was astonished as well 
as charmed, and grew daily more proud of and devoted 
to his new treasure ; finding a happiness and satisfaction 
he had longed for all his life in the affection and devotion 
of his children. 

At last Vallombreuse was pronounced well enough to 
mount his horse, and go for a ride in the forest — which he 
had long been sighing for — and Isabelle gladly consent- 
ed to bear him company. They looked a wonderfully 
handsome pair, as they rode leisurely through the leafy 
arcades. But there was one very marked difference be- 
tween them. The young man’s countenance was radiant 
with happiness and smiles, but the girl’s face was cloifd- 
ed over with an abiding melancholy. Occasionally her 
brother’s lively sallies would bring a faint smile to her 
sweet lips, but they fell back immediately into the 


470 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


mournful droop that had become habitual with them. 
Vallombreuse apparently did not perceive it — though in 
reality he was well aware of it, and of its cause — and was 
full of fun and frolic. 

“ Oh ! what a delicious thing it is to live,” he cried, 
“yet how seldom we think of the exquisite enjoyment 
there is in the simple act of breathing,” and he drew a 
long, deep breath, as if he never could get enough of the 
soft, balmy air. “ The trees surely were never so green 
before, the sky so blue, or the flowers so fragrant. I feel 
as if I had been born into the world only yesterday, and 
was looking upon nature for the first time to-day. I 
never appreciated it before. When I remember that I 
might even now be lying, stiff and stark, under a fine mar- 
ble monument, and that instead of that I am riding 
through an elysium, beside my darling sister, who has 
really learned to love me, I am too divinely happy. I do 
not even feel my wounii any more. I don’t believe that I 
ever was wounded. And now for a gallop, for I’m sure 
that our good father is wearying for us at home.” 

In spite of Isabelle’s remonstrances he put spurs to his 
horse, and she could not restrain hers when its compan- 
ion bounded forward, so off they went at a swift pace, and 
never drew rein until they reached the chateau. As he 
lifted his sister down from her saddle, Vallombreuse said, 
“ Now, after to-day’s achievement, I can surely be treat- 
ed like a big boy, and get permission to go out by my- 
self.” 

“ What ! you want to go away and leave us already ? 
and scarcely well yet, you bad boy ! ” 

“ Even so, my sweet sister ; I want to make a little 
journey that will take several days,” said Vallombreuse 
negligently. 


A FAMILY PARTY. 


471 


Accordingly, the very next morning he departed, after 
having taken an affectionate leave of the prince, his 
father ; who did not oppose his going, as Isabelle had con- 
fidently expected, but seemed, on the contrary, to approve 
of it heartily. After receiving many charges to be care- 
ful and prudent, from his sister, which he dutifully prom- 
ised to remember and obey, the young duke bade her 
good-bye also, and said, in a mysterious, yet most signifi- 
cant way, “All revoir, my sweet little sister, you will be 
pleased with what I am about to do.” And Isabelle 
sought in vain for the key to the enigma. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


NETTLES AND COBWEBS. 

The worthy tyrant’s advice was sensible and good, and 
de Sigognac resolved to follow it without delay. Since 
Isabelle’s departure, no attraction existed for him in the 
troupe, and he was very glad of a valid pretext for quit- 
ting it ; though he could not leave his humble friends 
without some regrets. It was necessary that he should 
disappear for a while — plunge into obscurity, until the ex- 
citement consequent upon the violent death of the young 
Duke of Vallombreuse should be forgotten in some new 
tragedy in real life. So, after bidding farewell to the 
worthy comedians, who had shown him so much kind- 
ness, he departed from the gay capital — mounted on a 
stout pony, and with a tolerably well filled purse — his 
share of the receipts of the troupe, which he had fairly 
earned. By easy stages he travelled slowly towards his 
own ruined chateau. After the storm the bird flies home 
to its nest, no matter how ragged and torn it may be. It 
was the only refuge open to him, and in the midst of his 
despondency he felt a sort of sad pleasure at the thought 
of returning to his ancestral home — desolate and forlorn 
as it was — where it would have been better, perhaps, for 
him to have quietly remained — for his fortunes were not 
improved, and this last crowning disaster had been ruin- 
ous to all his hopes and prospects of happiness. 

“ Ah, well ! ” said he to himself, sorrowfully, as he 

472 


NETTLES AND COBWEBS. 


473 


jogged slowly on, “ it was predestined that I should die 
of hunger and ennui within those crumbling walls, and 
under my poor, dilapidated, old roof, that lets the rain 
run through it like a huge sieve. No one can escape his 
destiny, and I shall accomplish mine. I am doomed to 
be the last de Sigognac.” 

Then came visions of what might have been, that made 
the sad present seem even darker by contrast ; and his 
burden was well nigh too heavy for him to bear, when he 
remembered all Isabelle’s goodness and loveliness — now 
lost to him forever. No wonder that his eyes were often 
wet with tears, and that there was no brightness even in 
the sunshine for him. 

It is needless to describe in detail a journey that lasted 
twenty days, and was not marked by any remarkable in- 
cidents or adventures. It is enough to say that one 
fine evening de Sigognac saw from afar the lofty towers 
of his ancient chateau, illuminated by the setting sun, 
and shining out in bold relief against the soft purple of 
the evening sky ; whilst one of the few remaining case- 
ments had caught the fiery sunset glow, and looked like 
a great carbuncle set in the fine facade of the stately 
old castle. This sight aroused a strange tenderness and 
agitation in the young baron’s breast. It was true that 
he had suffered long and acutely in that dreary mansion, 
yet after all it was very dear to him — far more than he 
knew before he had quitted it— and he was deeply moved 
at seeing it again. In a few moments more the glorious 
god of day had sunk behind the western horizon, and 
the chateau seemed to retreat, until it became scarcely 
perceptible as the light faded, forming only a vague, gray 
blot in the distance as the gloaming succeeded to the 
glow. But de Sigognac knew every step of the way per- 


474 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


fectly, and soon turned from the highway into the ne- 
glected, grass-grown road that led to the chateau. In 
the profound stillness, which seemed wonderfully peaceful 
and pleasant to him, he fancied that he could distinguish 
the distant barking of a dog, and that it sounded like Mi- 
raut. He stopped to listen ; yes, there could be no doubt 
about it, and it was approaching. The baron gave a clear, 
melodious whistle — a signal well known of old to Miraut — 
and in a few moments the faithful dog, running as fast as 
his poor old legs could carry him, burst through a break 
in the hedge — panting, barking, almost sobbing for joy. 
He strove to jump up on the horse’s neck to get at his 
beloved master ; he was beside himself with delight, 
and manifested it in the most frantic manner, whilst de 
Sigognac bent down to pat his head and try to quiet his 
wild transports. After bearing his master company a lit- 
tle way, Miraut set off again at full speed, to announce 
the good news to the others at the chateau — that is to 
say, to Pierre, Bayard and Beelzebub — and bounding into 
the kitchen where the old servant was sitting, lost in sad 
thoughts, he barked in such a significant way that Pierre 
knew at once that something unusual had happened. 

“ Can it be possible that the young master is coming ? ” 
said he aloud, rising, in compliance with Miraut’s wishes, 
who was pulling at the skirts of his coat, and imploring 
him with his eyes to bestir himself and follow him. As 
it was quite dark by this time, Pierre lighted a pine torch, 
which he carried with him, and as he turned into the road 
its ruddy light suddenly flashed upon de Sigognac and his 
horse. 

“ Is it really you, my lord ? ” cried Pierre, joyfully, as 
he caught sight of his young master ; “ Miraut had tried 
to tell me of your arrival in his own way before I left 


NETTLES AND COBWEBS. 


475 


the house, but as I had not heard anything about your 
even thinking of coming, I feared that he might be mis- 
taken. Welcome home to your own domain, my beloved 
master ! We are overjoyed to see you.” 

“ Yes, my good Pierre, it is really I, and not my wraith. 
Miraut was not mistaken. Here I am again, if not richer 
than when I went away, at least all safe and sound. 
Come now, lead the way with your torch, and we will go 
into the chateau. 

Pierre, not without considerable difficulty, opened the 
great door, and the Baron de Sigognac rode slowly 
through the ancient portico, fantastically illuminated by 
the flaring torchlight, in which the three sculptured storks 
overhead seemed to be flapping their wings, as if in joy- 
ful salutation to the last representative of the family they 
had symbolized for so many centuries. Then a loud, im- 
patient whinny, like the blast of a trumpet, was heard 
ringing out on the still night air, as Bayard, in his stable, 
caught the welcome sound of his master’s voice. 

“ Yes, yes, I hear you, my poor old Bayard,” cried de 
Sigognac, as he dismounted in the court, and threw the 
bridle to Pierre ; “ I am coming to say how d’ you do,” 
and as he turned he stumbled over Beelzebub, who was 
trying to rub himself against his master’s legs, purring 
and mewing alternately to attract his attention. The 
baron stooped down, took the old black cat up in his 
arms, and tenderly caressed him as he advanced towards 
the stables ; then put him down gently as he reached 
Bayard’s stall, and another touching scene of affectionate 
greeting was enacted. The poor old pony laid his head 
lovingly on his master’s shoulder, and actually tried to 
kick up his hind legs in a frisky way in honor of the 
great event ; also, he received the horse that de Sigognac 


476 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE, 


had ridden all the way from Paris, and which was put in 
the stall beside his own, very politely, and seemed pleased 
to have a companion in his solitary grandeur. 

“ And now that I have responded to the endearments 
of my dumb friends,” said the baron to Pierre, “we will 
go into the kitchen, and examine into the condition of 
your larder. I had but a poor breakfast this morning, 
and no dinner at all, being anxious to push on and reach 
my journey’s end before nightfall. I am as hungry as a 
bear, and will be glad of anything, no matter what.” 

“ I have not much to put before you, my lord, and I 
fear that you will find it but sorry fare after the delicacies 
you must have been accustomed to in Paris ; but though 
it will not be tempting, nor over savory, it will at least 
satisfy your hunger.” 

“ That is all that can be required of any food,” an- 
swered de Sigognac, “ and I am not as ungrateful as you 
seem to think, my good Pierre, to the frugal fare of my 
youth, which has certainly made me healthy, vigorous, 
and strong. Bring out what you have, and serve it as 
proudly as if it were of the choicest and daintiest ; I will 
promise to do honor to it, for I am desperately hungry.” 

The old servant bustled about joyously, and quickly 
had the table ready for his master ; then stood behind 
his chair, while he ate and drank with a traveller’s appe- 
tite, as proudly erect as if he had been a grand major- 
domo waiting on a prince. According to the old custom, 
Miraut and Beelzebub, stationed on the right and on the 
left, watched their master’s every motion, and received a 
share of everything that was on the table. The great 
kitchen was lighted, not very brilliantly, by a torch, 
stuck in an iron bracket just inside the broad, open 
chimney, so that the smoke should escape through it and 


NETTLES AND COBWEBS. 


477 


not fill the room, and the scene was so exactly a coun- 
terpart of the one described at the beginning of this nar- 
rative, that the baron, struck with the perfect resemblance, 
fancied that he must have been dreaming, and had never 
quitted his ancient chateau at all. Everythinjj was pre- 
cisely as he had left it, excepting that the nettles and 
weeds had grown a little taller, and the cobweb draperies 
a little more voluminous ; all else was unchanged. Un- 
consciously lapsing into the old ways, de Sigognac fell 
into a deep reverie after he had finished his simple repast, 
which Pierre, as of old, respected, and even Miraut and 
Beelzebub did not venture to intrude upon. All that had 
occurred since he last sat at his own table passed in 
review before him, but seemed like adventures that he 
had read of, not actually participated in himself. It had 
all passed into the background. Captain Fracasse, 
already nearly obliterated, appeared like a pale spectre 
in the far distance ; his combats with the Duke of Val- 
lombreuse seemed equally unreal. In fine, everything 
that he had seen, done, and suffered, had sunk into 
shadowy vagueness ; but his love for Isabelle had under- 
gone no change ; it had neither diminished nor grown 
cold ; it was as passionate and all-absorbing as ever ; it 
was his very life ; yet rather like an aspiration of the 
soul than a real passion, since with it all he knew that the 
angelic being who was its object, and whom he wor- 
shipped from afar, could never, never be his. The 
wheels of his chariot, which for a brief space had turned 
aside into a new track, were back in the old rut again, 
and realizing that there could be no further escape from 
it possible for him, he gave way sullenly to a despairing, 
stolid sort of resignation, that he had no heart to struggle 
against, but yielded to it passively ; blaming himself the 


478 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


while for having presumed to indulge in a season of 
bright hopes and delicious dreams. Why the devil 
should such an unlucky fellow as he had always been 
‘venture to aspire to happiness ? It was all foolishness, 
and sure to end in bitter disappointment ; but he had had 
his lesson now, and would be wiser for the future. 

He sat perfectly motionless for a long time, plunged in 
a sad reverie — sunk in a species of torpor ; but he roused 
himself at last, and perceiving that his faithful old fol- 
lower’s eyes were fixed upon him, full of timid question- 
ing that he did not venture to put into words, briefly 
related to him the principal incidents of his journey up 
to the capital, and his short stay there. When he 
graphically described his two duels with the Duke of Val- 
lombreuse, the old man, filled with pride and delight at 
the proficiency of his beloved pupil, could not restrain 
his enthusiasm, and snatching up a stick gave vigorous 
illustrations of all the most salient points of the encoun- 
ters as the baron delineated them, ending up with a wild 
flourish and a shout of triumph. 

“ Alas ! my good Pierre,” said he, with a sigh, when 
quiet was restored, “ you taught me how to use my sword 
only too well. My unfortunate victory has been my 
ruin, and has sent me back, hopeless and bereaved, to 
this poor old crumbling chateau of mine, where I am 
doomed to drag out the weary remainder of my days in 
sorrow and misery. I am peculiarly unhappy, in that 
my very triumphs have only made matters worse for me 
— it would have been better far for me, and for all, if I 
had been wounded, or even killed, in this last disastrous 
encounter, instead of my rival and enemy, the young 
Duke of Vallombreuse.” 

“ The de Sigognacs are never beaten,” said the old 


NETTLES AND COBWEBS. 


479 


retainer loftily. “No matter what may come of it, I am 
glad, my dear young master, that you killed that inso- 
lent duke. The whole thing was conducted in strict ac- 
cordance with the code of honor — what more could be 
desired ? How could any valiant gentleman object to die 
gloriously, sword in hand, of a good, honest wound, fairly 
given ? He should consider himself most fortunate.” 

“ Ah well ! perhaps you are right — I will not dispute 
you,” said de Sigognac, smiling secretly at the old man’s 
philosophy. “ But I am very tired, and would like to go 
to my own room now — will you light the lamp, my good 
Pierre, and lead the way ?” 

Pierre obeyed, and the baron, preceded by his old 
servant and followed by his old dog and cat, slowly 
ascended the ancient staircase. The quaint frescoes 
were gradually fading, growing ever paler and more in- 
distinct, and there were new stains on the dull blue sky 
of the vaulted ceiling, where the rain and melting 
snow of winter storms had filtered through from the 
dilapidated roof. The ruinous condition of everything 
in and about the crumbling old chateau, to which de Sig- 
ognac had been perfectly accustomed before he quitted 
it, and taken as a matter of course, now struck him forci- 
bly, and increased his dejection. He saw in it the sad 
and inevitable decadence of his race, and said to himself, 
“ If these ancient walls had any pity for the last forlorn 
remnant of the family they have sheltered for centuries, 
they would fall in and bury me in their ruins.” 

When he reached the landing at the head of the stairs 
he took the lamp from Pierre’s hand, bade him good- 
night and dismissed him — not willing that even his faith- 
ful old servant, who had cared for him ever since his 
birth, should witness his overpowering emotion. He 


48 o 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


walked slowly through the great banqueting hall, where 
the comedians had supped on that memorable night, and 
the remembrance of that gay scene rendered the present 
dreary solitude and silence more terrible than they had 
ever seemed to him before. The death-like stillness was 
only broken by the horrid gnawing of a rat somewhere in 
the wall, and the old family portraits glared down at him 
reproachfully, as he passed on below them with listless 
step and downcast eyes, oblivious of everything but his 
own deep misery, and his yearning for his lost Isabelle. 
As he came under the last portrait of all, that of his own 
sweet young mother, he suddenly looked up, and as his 
eyes rested on the calm, beautiful countenance — which 
had always worn such a pathetic, mournful expression 
that it used to make his heart ache to look at it in his 
boyish days — it seemed to smile upon him. He was 
startled for an instant, and then, thrilling with a strange, 
exquisite delight, and inspired with new hope and courage, 
he said in a low, earnest tone, “ I accept my dear dead 
mother’s smile as a good omen — perhaps all may not be 
lost even yet — I will try to believe so.” 

After a moment of silent thought, he went on into his 
own chamber, and put down the small lamp he carried, 
upon the little table, where still lay the stray volume of 
Ronsard’s poems that he had been reading — or rather 
trying to read — on that tempestuous night when the old 
pedant knocked at his door. And there was his bed, 
where Isabelle had slept — the very pillow upon which 
her dear head had rested. He trembled as he stood and 
gazed at it, and saw, as in a vision, the perfect form lying 
there again in his place, and the sweetest face in all the 
world turned towards him, with a tender smile parting 
the ripe red lips, a rosy flush mantling in the delicate 


NETTLES AND COBWEBS. 48 1 

cheeks, and warm lovelight shining in the deep blue eyes. 
He stood spellbound — afraid to move or breathe — and 
worshipped the beautiful vision with all his soul and 
strength, as if it had been indeed divine — but alas ! it 
faded as suddenly as it had appeared, and he felt as if 
the doors of heaven had been shut upon him. He hastily 
undressed, and threw himself down in the place wher< 
Isabelle had actually reposed ; passionately kissed the 
pillow that had been hallowed by the touch of her head, 
and bedewed it with his tears. He lay long awake, 
thinking of the angelic being who loved him and whom 
he adored, whilst Beelzebub, rolled up in a ball, slept at 
his feet, and snored like the traditional cat of Mahomet, 
that lay and slumbered upon the prophet’s sleeve. 

When morning came, de Sigognac was more impressed 
than ever with the dilapidated, crumbling condition of 
his ancient mansion. Daylight has no mercy upon old 
age and ruins ; it reveals with cruel distinctness the 
wrinkles, gray hairs, poverty, misery, stains, fissures, dust 
and mould in which they abound ; but more kindly night 
softens or conceals all defects, with its friendly shade, 
spreading over them its mantle of darkness. The rooms 
that used to seem so vast to their youthful owner had 
shrunken, and looked almost small, and insignificant to 
him now, to his extreme surprise and mortification ; but 
he soon regained the feeling of being really at home, and 
resumed his former way of life completely ; just as one 
goes back to an old garment, that has for a time been 
laid aside, and replaced by a new one. His days were 
spent thus : early in the morning he went to say a short 
prayer in the half' ruined chapel where his ancestors lay, 
ere he repaired to the kitchen where his simple breakfast 
awaited him ; that disposed of, he and old Pierre fetched 
21 


482 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


their swords, and fought their friendly duels ; after which 
he mounted Bayard, or the pony he had brought home 
with him, and went off for long, solitary rides over the 
desolate Landes. Returning late in the afternoon he 
sat, sad and silent as of old, until his frugal supper was 
prepared, partook of it, also in silence, and then retired 
to his lonely chamber, where he tried to read some 
musty old volume which he knew by heart already, or 
else flung himself on his bed — never without kissing the 
sacred pillow that had supported Isabelle’s beloved head 
— and lay there a prey to mournful and bitter meditations, 
until at last he could forget his troubles and grief in 
sleep. There was not a vestige left of the brilliant Cap- 
tain Fracasse, nor of the high-spirited rival of the haugh- 
ty Duke of Vallombreuse ; the unfortunate young Baron 
de Sigognac had relapsed entirely into the sad-eyed, 
dejected master of Castle Misery. 

One morning he sauntered listlessly down into the gar- 
den, which was wilder and more overgrown than ever — a 
tangled mass of weeds and brambles. He mechanically 
directed his steps towards the straggling eglantine that 
had had a little rose ready for each of the fair visitors 
that accompanied him when last he was there, and was 
surprised and delighted to see that it again held forth, as if 
for his acceptance, two lovely little blossoms that had 
come out to greet him, and upon each of which a dew- 
drop sparkled amid the frail, delicately tinted petals. 
He was strangely moved and touched by the sight of 
these tiny wild roses, which awoke such tender, precious 
memories, and he repeated to himself, as he had often 
done before, the words in which Isabelle had confessed 
to him that she had furtively kissed the little flower, his 
offering, and dropped a tear upon it, and then secretly 


NETTLES AND COBWEBS. 


483 


given him her own heart in exchange for it — surely the 
sweetest words ever spoken on this earth. He gently 
plucked one of the dainty little roses, passionately in- 
haled its delicate fragrance and pressed a kiss upon it, 
as if it had been her lips, which were not less sweet, and 
soft, and fresh. He had done nothing but think of 
Isabelle ever since their separation, and he fully realized 
now, if he had not before, how indispensable she was to 
his happiness. She was never out of" his mind, waking 
or sleeping, for he dreamed of her every night, and his 
love grew fonder, if that were possible, as the weary days 
went on. She was so good and true, so pure and sweet, 
so beautiful, so everything that was lovely and desira- 
ble, ‘‘made of all creatures’ best,” a veritable angel in 
human guise. Ah ! how passionately he loved her — how 
could he live without her? Yet he feared— he was 
almost forced to believe — that he had lost her irreparably, 
and that for him hope was dead. Those were terrible 
days for the poor, grief-stricken young baron, and he felt 
that he could not long endure such misery and live. 
Two or three months passed away thus, and one day 
when de Sigognac chanced to be in his own room, finish- 
ing a sonnet addressed to Isabelle, Pierre entered, and 
announced to his master that there was a gentleman 
without who wished to speak with him. 

“ A gentleman, who wants to see me ! ” exclaimed the 
astonished baron. “ You must be either, romancing or 
mad, my good Pierre ! There is no gentleman- in the 
world who can have anything to say to me. However, 
for the rarity of the thing, you may bring in th^s extra- 
ordinary mortal — if such there really be, and you are not 
dreaming, as I shrewdly suspect. But tell me his name 
first, or hasn’t he got any ? ” 


484 


CAP TAIN -FRA CA SSE. 


‘‘ He declined to give it, saying that it would not af- 
ford your lordship any information,” Pierre made an- 
swer, as he turned back and opened wide both leaves of 
the door. 

Upon the threshold appeared a handsome young man, 
dressed in a rich and elegant travelling costume of chest- 
nut brown cloth trimmed with green, and holding in his 
hand a broad felt hat with a long green plume ; leav- 
ing his well shaped, proudly carried head fully exposed 
to view, as well as the delicate, regular features of a face 
worthy of an ancient Greek statue. The sight of this 
fine cavalier did not seem to make an agreeable impres- 
sion upon de Sigognac, who turned very pale,'" and rush- 
ing to where his trusty sword was suspended, over the 
head of his bed, drew it from the scabbard, and turned to 
face the new-comer with the naked blade in his hand. 

‘‘ By heaven, my lord duke, I believed that I had killed 
you ! ” he cried in excited tones. “Is it really you — 
your very self--or your wraith that stands before me ? ” 

“ It is really I — my very self — Hannibal de Vallom- 
breuse, in the flesh, and no wraith ; as far from being 
dead as possible,” answered the young duke, with a ra'di- 
ant smile. “But put up that sword I pray you, my dear 
baron ! We have fought twice already, you know, and 
surely that is enough. I do not come as an enemy, and 
if I have to reproach myself with some little sins against 
you, you have certainly had your revenge for them, so we 
are quits. To prove that my intentions are not hostile, 
but of the most friendly nature if you will so allow, I 
have brought credentials, in the shape of this commis- 
sion, signed by the king, which gives you command of a 
regiment. My good father and I have reminded his 
majesty of the devotion of your illustrious ancestors to his 



ll 


11 


WHO TURNED VERY PALE. 





V R . 


frt- ’ £=■'^4 

--■i^, ‘ i 


• * 


• • 








pjX'i.--/ ' 

Sc V ^ ^ V - 

IT*- 

I V # » 


' 3 


■ » 



•? * 



’'Ci.6 1 V 



V;v 


5 ► * 


*% 




V’/ 



. •*• 


ml F. 


•> 


'f » 


. - 't 



H . - ^ 




i»i 


/ 


• - ^ 




M 

1 


I 


• f ■ f 






» 4^ 



^ ir 


nj-*’ 

If* < 




» r 


4 4 



, V w •ai * > 


- . ^ V;ri,- i ■ i.' , - -, •.• * 

... ‘ "' J^i' 


\ 



« * 



■■• .. ^ 




- • j ■ - 

» .1 ; . . 




kC' 





rri ; 


A *-i 


. ¥ 


>'iL •lau.i : ... 

'r ‘ L^Cvi'^ A!j • * >#iii . -i •. 

, ■ .. H- ■ . <^- 



NETTLES AND COBWEBS. 485 

royal ones, and I have ventured to bring you this good 
news in person. And now, as I am your guest, I pray 
you have something or other killed, I don’t care what, 
and put on the spit to roast as quickly as may be — for 
the love of God give me something to eat — I am starving. 
The inns are so far apart and so abominably bad down 
here that there might almost as well be none at all, and 
my baggage-wagon, stocked with edibles, is stuck fast in 
a quagmire a long way from this. So you see the ne- 
cessities of the case.” 

“ I am very much afraid, my lord duke, that the fare I 
can offer will seem to you only another form of revenge 
on my part, ” said de Sigognac with playful courtesy ; 
“ but do not, I beseech you, attribute to resentment the 
meagre repast for which I shall be obliged to claim your 
indulgence. You must know how gladly I would put be- 
fore you a sumptuous meal if I could ; and what we can 
give you will at least, as my good Pierre says, satisfy 
hunger, though it may not gratify the palate. And let 
me now say that your frank and cordial words touch me 
deeply, and find an echo in my inmost heart. I am 
both proud and happy to call you my friend — henceforth 
you will not have one more loyal and devoted than my- 
self — and though you may not often have need of my 
services, they will be, none the less, always at your dispo- 
sition. Halloa ! Pierre ! do you go, without a moment’s 
delay, and hunt up some fowls, eggs, meat, whatever you 
can find, and try to serve a substantial meal to this gen- 
tleman, my friend, who is nearly dying with hunger, and 
is not used to it like you and me.” 

Pierre put in his pocket some of the money his master 
had sent him from Paris — which he had never touched 
before — mounted the pony, and gallopped off to the near- 


486 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


est village in search of provisions. He found several 
fowls— such as they were — a splendid Bayonne ham, a 
few bottles of fine old wine, and by great good luck, dis- 
covered, at the priest’s house, a grand big pdN of ducks’ 
livers — a delicacy worthy of a bishop’s or a prince’s table — 
and which he had much difficulty to obtain from his rev- 
erence, who was a bit of a gourmand, at an almost fab- 
ulous price. But this was evidently a great occasion, and 
the faithful old servant would spare no pains to do it 
honor. In less than an hour he was at home again, and 
leaving the charge of the cooking to a capable woman he 
had found and sent out to the chateau, he immediately 
proceeded to set the table, in the ancient banqueting hall 
— gathering together all the fine porcelain and dainty 
glass that yet remained intact in the two tall buffets — 
evidences of former splendor. But the profusion of gold 
and silver plate that used to adorn the festive board of 
the de Sigognacs had all been converted into coin of the 
realm long ago. 

When at last the old servant announced that dinner 
was ready, the two young men took their places opposite 
to each other at table, and Vallombreuse, who was in the 
gayest, most jovial mood, attacked the viands with an 
eagerness and ferocity" immensely diverting to his host. 
After devouring almost the whole of a chicken, which, it 
is true, seemed to have died of a consumption, there was 
so little flesh on its bones, he fell back upon the tempt- 
ing, rosy slices of the delicate Bayonne ham, and then 
passed to the pate of ducks’ livers, which he declared to 
be supremely delicious, exquisite, ambrosial — food fit for 
the gods ; and he found the sharp cheese, made of goat’s 
milk, which followed, an excellent relish. He praised the 
wine, too — which was really very old and fine — and drank 


NETTLES AND COBWEBS. 


487 


it with great gusto, out of his delicate Venetian wine- 
glass. Once, when he caught sight of Pierre’s bewildered, 
terrified look, as he heard his master address his merry- 
guest as the Duke of Vallombreuse — who ought to be 
dead, if he was not — he fairly roared with laughter, and 
was as full of fun and frolic as a school-boy out for a 
holiday. Meantime de Sigognac, whilst he endeavored 
to play the attentive host, and to respond as well as he 
could to the young duke’s lively sallies, could not recover 
from his surprise at seeing him sitting there opposite 
to himself, as a guest at his own table — making himself 
very much at home, too, in the most charming, genial, 
easy way imaginable — and yet he was the haughty, over- 
bearing, insolent young nobleman, who had been his hated 
rival ; whom he had twice encountered and defeated, in 
fierce combat, and who had several times tried to com- 
pass his death by means of hired ruffians. What could 
be the explanation of it all ? 

The Duke of Vallombreuse divined his companion’s 
thoughts, and when the old servant had retired, after 
placing a bottle of especially choice wine and two small 
glasses on the table, he looked up at de Sigognac and 
said, with the most amicable frankness, “ I can plainly 
perceive, my dear baron, in spite pf your admirable cour- 
tesy, that this unexpected step of mine appears very 
strange and inexplicable to you. You have been saying 
to yourself, how in the world has it come about, that the 
arrogant, imperious Vallombreuse has been transformed, 
from the unscrupulous, cruel, blood-thirsty tiger that he 
was, into the peaceable, playful lamb he seems to be now 
— which a ‘ gentle shepherdess ’ might lead about with a 
ribbon round its neck ! — I will tell you. During the six 
weeks that I was confined to my bed, I made various re- 


488 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


flections, which the thoughtless might pronounce cow- 
ardly, but which are permitted to the bravest and most 
valiant when death stares them in the face. I realized 
then, for the first time, the relative value of many things, 
and also how wrong and wicked my own course had been ; 
and I promised myself to do very differently for the fu- 
ture, if I recovered. As the passionate love that Isabelle 
inspired in my heart had been replaced by a pure and 
sacred fraternal affection — which is the greatest blessing 
of my life — I had no further reason to dislike you. You 
were no longer my rival ; a brother cannot be jealous 
in that way of his own sister ; and then, I was deeply 
grateful to you, for the respectful tenderness and defer- 
ence I knew you had never failed to manifest towards 
her, when she was in a position that authorized great 
license. You were the first to recognize her pure, exalted 
soul, while she was still only an obscure actress. When 
she was poor, and despised by those who will cringe to 
her now, you offered to her — lowly as was her station — 
the most precious treasure that a nobleman can possess ; 
the time-honored name of his ancestors. You would 
have made her your wife then — now that she is rich, and 
of high rank, she belongs to you of right. The true, faith- 
ful lover of Isabelle, the actress, should be the honored 
husband of the Comtesse de Lineuil.” 

“ But you forget,” cried de Sigognac, in much agitation, 
“ that she always absolutely refused me, though she knew 
that I was perfectly disinterested.” 

“ It was because of her supreme delicacy, her angelic 
susceptibility, and her noble spirit of self-sacrifice that 
she did that. She feared that she would necessarily be a 
disadvantage to you — an obstacle in the way of your ad- 
vancement. But the situation is entirely changed now.” 


NETTLES AND COBWEBS, 489 

‘‘Yes, now it is I who would be a disadvantage to her ; 
have I then a right to be less generous and magnanimous 
than she was ?” 

“ Do you still love my sister ?” said Vallombreuse, in 
a grave tone. “ As her brother, I have the right to ask 
this question.” 

“ I love her with all my heart, with all my soul, with 
all my strength,” de Sigognac replied fervently, “ as much 
and more than ever man loved woman on this earth — 
where nothing is perfect — save Isabelle.” 

“ Such being the case, my dear Captain of Mousque- 
taires, and governor of a province — soon to be — have 
your horse saddled, and come with me to the Chateau 
of Vallombreuse, so that I may formally present you to 
the prince, my father, as the favored suitor of the Com- 
tesse de Lineuil, my sister. Isabelle has refused even 
to think of the Chevalier de Vidalinc, or the Marquis de 
I’Estang, as aspirants to her hand — both right handsome, 
attractive, eligible young fellows^ by Jove ! — but I am of 
opinion that she will accept, without very much persua- 
sion, the Baron de Sigognac.” 

The next day the duke and the baron were riding gayly 
forward, side by side, on the road to Paris. 


21 


CHAPTER XX. 


chiquita’s declaration of love. 

A COMPACT crowd filled the Place de Greve, despite 
the early hour indicated by the clock of the Hotel de 
Ville. The tall buildings on the eastern side of the 
square threw their shadows more than half-way across 
it, and upon a sinister-looking wooden framework, which 
rose several feet above the heads of the populace, and 
bore a number of ominous, dull red stains. At the win- 
dows of the houses surrounding the crowded square, a 
few heads were to be seen looking out from time to time, 
but quickly drawn back again as they perceived that the 
interesting performance, for which all were waiting, had 
not yet begun. Clinging to the transverse piece of the 
tall stone cross, which stood at that side of the open 
square nearest the river, was a forlorn, little, ragged boy, 
who had climbed up to it with the greatest difficulty, 
and was holding on with all his might, his arms clasped 
round the cross-piece and his legs round the upright, in a 
most painful and precarious position. But nothing would 
have induced him to abandon it, so long as he could pos- 
sibly maintain himself there, no matter at what cost of 
discomfort, or even actual distress, for from it he had a 
capital view of the scaffold, and all its horribly fascinat- 
ing details— the wheel upon which the criminal was to 
revolve, the coil of rope to bind him to it, and the heavy 
bar to break his bones. 


490 


CH/Q VITA’S DECLARATION OF LOVE. 49 1 


If any one among the anxious -crowd of spectators, 
however, had carefully studied the small, thin counte- 
nance of the child perched up on the tall stone cross, he 
would have discovered that its expression was by no 
means that of vulgar curiosity. It was not simply the 
fierce attractions of an execution that had drawn thither 
this wild, weird-looking young creature, with his sun- 
burned complexion, great, flashing, dark eyes, brilliant 
white teeth, unkempt masses of thick, black hair, and 
slender brown hands — which were convulsively clinging 
to the rough, cold stone. The delicacy of the features 
would seem to indicate a different sex from the dress — 
but nobody paid any attention to the child, and all eyes 
were turned towards the scaffold, or the direction from 
which the cart bearing the condemned criminal was to 
come. Among the groups close around the scaffold were 
several faces we have seen before ; notably, the chalky 
countenance and fiery red nose of Malartic, and the bold 
profile of Jacquemin Lampourde, also several of the 
ruffians engaged in the abduction of Isabelle, as well as 
various other habitues of the Crowned Radish. The 
Place de Greve, to which sooner or later they were all 
pretty sure to come and expiate their crimes with their 
lives, seemed to exercise a singular fascination over mur- 
derers, thieves, and criminals of all sorts, who invariably 
gathered in force to witness an execution. They evi- 
dently could not resist it, and appeared to find a fierce 
satisfaction in watching the terrible spectacle that they 
themselves would some day probably furnish to the gap- 
ing multitude. Then the victim himself always ex- 
pected his friends’ attendance — he would be hurt and 
disappointed if his comrades did not rally round him at 
the last. A criminal in that position likes to see familiar 


492 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


faces in the throng that hems him in. It gives him 
courage, steadies his nerves. He cannot exhibit any 
signs of cowardice before those who appreciate true 
merit and bravery, according to his way of thinking, and 
pride comes to his aid. A man will meet death like a 
Roman under such circumstances, who would be weak 
as a woman if he were despatched in private. 

The criminal to be executed on that occasion was a 
thief, already notorious in Paris for his daring and dex- 
terity, though he had only been there a few months. 
But, unfortunately for himself — though very much the 
reverse for the well-to-do citizens of the capital in gen- 
eral — he had not confined himself to his legitimate busi- 
ness. In his last enterprise — breaking into a private 
dwelling to gain possession of a large sum of money that 
was to be kept there for a single night — he had killed 
the master of the house, who was aroused by his entrance ; 
and, not content to stop there, had also brutally mur- 
dered his wife, as she lay quietly sleeping in her bed — 
like a tiger, that has tasted blood and is wild for more. 
So atrocious a crime had roused the indignation of even 
his own unscrupulous, hardened companions, and it was 
not long ere his hiding-place was mysteriously revealed, 
and he was arrested, tried, and condemned to death. 
Now he was to pay the penalty of his guilt. 

As the fatal hour approached, a carriage drove down 
along the quay, turned into the Place de Greve, and 
attempted to cross it ; but, becoming immediately en- 
tangled in the crowd, could make little or no progress, 
despite the utmost exertions of the majestic coachman 
and attendant lackeys to induce the people to make way 
for it, and let it pass. But for the grand coat of arms and 
ducal cornet emblazoned on the panels, which inspired a 


CHIQUITA' S DECLARATION OF LOVE. 493 

certain awe as well as respect in the motley throng of 
pedestrians, the equipage would undoubtedly have been 
roughly dealt with — but as it was, they contented them- 
selves with resolutely and obstinately barring its passage, 
after it had reached the middle of the square. The in- 
dignant coachman did not dare to urge his spirited horses 
forward at all hazards, ruthlessly trampling down the un- 
lucky individuals who happened to be directly in his 
way, as he would certainly have done in any ordinary 
crowd, for the canaille, that filled the Place de Greve to 
overflowing, was out in too great force to be trifled with — 
so there was nothing for it but paTience. 

“ These rascals are waiting for an execution, and will 
not stir, nor let us stir, until it is over,” said a remarka- 
bly handsome young man, magnificently dressed, to his 
equally fine looking, though more modestly attired friend, 
who was seated beside him in the luxurious carriage. 
‘‘ The devil take the unlucky dog who must needs be 
broken on the wheel just when we want to cross the 
Place de Greve. Why couldn’t he have put it off until 
to-morrow morning, I should like to know ! ” 

“ You may be sure that the poor wretch would be only 
too glad to do so if he could,” answered' the other, “ for 
the occasion is a far more serious matter to him than to 
us.” 

“ The best thing we can do under the circumstances, 
my dear de Sigognac, is to turn our heads away if the 
spectacle is too revolting — though it is by no means easy, 
when something horrible is taking place close at hand. 
Even Saint Augustine opened his eyes in the arena at a 
loud cheer from the people, though he had vowed to 
himself beforehand to keep them closed.” 

“ At all events, we shall not be detained here long,” 


494 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


rejoined de Sigognac, “ for there comes the prisoner. 
See, Vallombreuse, how the crowd gives way before him, 
though it will not let us move an inch.” 

A rickety cart, drawn by a miserable old skeleton of a 
horse, and surrounded by mounted guards, was slowly 
advancing through the dense throng towards the scaffold. 
In it were a venerable priest, with a long white beard, who 
was holding a crucifix to the lips of the condemned man, 
seated beside him, the executioner, placed behind his 
victim, and holding the end of the rope that bound him, 
and an assistant, who was driving the poor old horse. 
The criminal, whom ^ery one turned to gaze at, was 
no other than our old acquaintance, Agostino, the brig- 
and. 

“ Why, what is this ! ” cried de Sigognac, in great sur- 
prise. “ I know that man — he is the fellow who stopped 
us on the highway, and tried to frighten us with his band 
of scarecrows, as poor Matamore called them. I told 
you all about it when we came by the place where it 
happened.” 

“ Yes, I remember perfectly,” said Vallombreuse ; “ it 
was a capital story, and I had a good laugh over it. But 
it would seem that the ingenious rascal has been up to 
something more serious since then — his ambition has 
probably been his ruin. He certainly is no coward — 
only look what a good face he puts on it.” 

Agostino, holding his head proudly erect, but a trifle 
paler than usual perhaps, seemed to be searching for 
some one in the crowd. When the cart passed slowly in 
front of the stone cross, he caught sight of the little boy, 
who had not budged from his excessively uncomfortable 
and wearisome position, and a flash of joy shone in the 
brigand’s eyes, a slight smile parted his lips, as he made 


CHIQUIT.rS DECLARATION^ OF LOVE. 495 


an almost imperceptible sign with his head, and said, in 
a low tone, “ Chiquita ! ” 

“ My son, what was that strange word you spoke ? ” 
asked the priest. “ It sounded like an outlandish woman’s 
name. Dismiss all such subjects from your mind, and 
fix your thoughts on your own hopes of salvation, for you 
stand on the threshold of eternity.” 

“Yes, my father, I know it but too well, and though 
my hair is black and my form erect, whilst you are bowed 
with age, and your long beard is white as snow, you are 
younger now than I— every turn of the wheels, towards 
that scaffold yonder, ages me by ten years.” 

During this brief colloquy the cart had made steady 
progress, and in a moment more had stopped at the foot 
of the rude wooden steps that led up to the scaffold, 
which Agostino ascended slowly but unfalteringly — pre- 
ceded by the assistant, supported by the priest, and fol- 
lowed by the executioner. In less than a minute he was 
firmly bound upon the wheel, and the executioner, 
having thrown off his showy scarlet cloak, braided with 
white, and rolled up his sleeves, stooped to pick up the 
terrible bar that lay at his feet. It was a moment of in- 
tense horror and excitement. An anxious curiosity, 
largely mixed with dread, oppressed the hearts of the 
spectators, who stood motionless, breathless, with pale 
faces, and straining eyes fixed upon the tragic group on 
the fatal scaffold. Suddenly a strange stir ran through 
the crowd — the child, who was perched up on the cross, 
had slipped quickly down to the ground, and glid- 
ing like a serpent through the closely packed throng, 
reached the scaffold, cleared the steps at a bound, and 
appeared beside the astonished executioner, who was 
just in the act of raising the ponderous bar to strike. 


496 


CAP 7' A IN PPACASSE.' 


with such a wild, ghastly, yet inspired and noble counte' 
nance — lighted up by a strength of will and purpose that 
made it actually sublime — that the grim dealer of death 
paused involuntarily, and withheld the murderous blow 
about to fall. 

“ Get out of my way, thou puppet ! ” he roared in 
angry tones, as he recovered his sang-froid^ “ or thou 
wilt get thy accursed head smashed.” 

But Chiquita paid no attention to him — she did not 
care whether she was killed too, or not. Bending over 
Agostino, she passionately kissed his forehead, whispered 
“ I love thee ! ” — and then, with a blow as swift as 
lightning, plunged into his heart the knife she had re- 
claimed from Isabelle. It was dealt with so firm a 
hand, and unerring an aim, that death was almost in- 
stantaneous — scarcely had Agostino time to murmur 
“thanks.” 

With a wild burst of hysterical laughter the child 
sprang down from the scaffold, while the executioner, 
stupefied at her bold deed, lowered his now useless club ; 
uncertain whether or not he should proceed to break the 
bones of the man already dead, and beyond his power to 
torture. 

“ Well done, Chiquita, well done, and bravely ! ” cried 
Malartic — who had recognized her in spite of her boy’s 
clothes— losing his self-restraint in his admiration. The 
other ruffians, who had seen Chiquita at the Crowned 
Radish, and wondered at and admired her courage 
when she stood against the door and let Agostino fling 
his terrible “ navaja ” at her without moving a muscle, 
now grouped themselves closely together so as to effectu- 
ally prevent the soldiers from pursuing her. The fracas 
that ensued gave Chiquita time to reach the carriage of 


CmQUITA'S DECLARATION OF LOVE. 497 

the Duke of Vallombreuse — which, taking advantage of 
the stir and shifting in the throng, was slowly making its 
way out of the Place de Greve. She climbed up on the 
step, and catching sight of de Sigognac within, ap- 
pealed to him, in scarcely audible words, as she panted 
and trembled — “ I saved your Isabelle, now save me ! ” 

Vallombreuse, who had been very much interested by 
this strange and exciting scene, cried to the coachman, 
“ Get on as fast as you can, even if you have to drive 
over the people.” 

But there was no need — the crowd opened as if by 
magic before the carriage, and closed again compactly 
after it had passed, so that Chiquita’s pursuers could not 
penetrate it, or make any progress — they were completely 
baffled, whichever way they turned. Meanwhile the fugi- 
tive was being rapidly carried beyond their reach. As 
soon as the open street was gained, the coachman had 
urged his horses forward, and in a very few minutes they 
reached the Porte Saint Antoine. As the report of what 
had occurred in the Place de Greve could not have pre- 
ceded them, Vallombreuse thought it better to proceed 
at a more moderate pace — fearing that their very speed 
might arouse suspicion — and gave orders accordingly ; 
as soon as they were fairly beyond the gate he took 
Chiquita into the carriage — where she seated herself, 
without a word, opposite to de Sigognac. Under the 
calmest exterior she was filled with a preternatural ex- 
citement — not a muscle of her face moved ; but a bright 
flush glowed on her usually pale cheeks, which gave 
to her magnificent dark eyes — now fixed upon vacancy, 
and seeing nothing that was before them — a marvellous 
brilliancy. A complete transformation had taken place 
in Chiquita — this violent shock had torn asunder the 


498 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


childish chrysalis in which the young maiden had lain 
dormant — as she plunged her knife into Agostino’s heart 
she opened her own. Her love was born of that murder 
— the strange, almost sexless being, half child, half 
goblin, that she had been until then, existed no longer — 
Chiquita was a woman from the moment of that heroic 
act of sublime devotion. Her passion, that had bloomed 
out in one instant, was destined to be eternal — a kiss and 
a stab, that was Chiquita’s love story. 

The carriage rolled smoothly and swiftly on its way 
towards Vallombreuse, and when the high, steep roof of 
the chateau came in sight the young duke said to de 
Sigognac, “You must go with me to my room first, where 
you can get rid of the dust, and freshen up a bit before I 
present you to my sister — who knows nothing whatever 
of my journey, or its motive. I have prepared a surprise 
for her, and I want it to be complete — so please draw 
down the curtain on your side, while I do the same on 
mine, in order that we may not be seen, as we drive into 
the court, from any of the windows that command a view 
of it. But what are we to do with this little wretch 
here ” 

Chiquita, who was roused from her deep reverie by the 
duke’s question, looked gravely up at him, and said, 
“ Let some one take me to Madame Isabelle — she will 
decide what is to be done with me.” 

With all the curtains carefully drawn down the car- 
riage drove over the drawbridge and into the court — 
Vallombreuse alighted, took de Sigognac’s arm, and led 
him silently to his own apartment, after having ordered 
a servant to conduct Chiquita to the presence of the 
Comtesse de Lineuil. At sight of her Isabelle was 
greatly astonished, and, laying down the book she was 


CHIQ VITA’S BE CLA RATION OF LOVE. 499 


reading, fixed upon the poor child a look full of interest, 
affection, and questioning. Chiquita stood silent and 
motionless until the servant had retired, then, with a 
strange solemnity, which was entirely new in her, she 
went up to Isabelle, and timidly taking her hand, said : 

My knife is in Agostino’s heart. I have no master 
now, and I must devote myself to somebody. Next to 
him who is dead I love you best of all the world. You 
gave me the pearl necklace I wished for, and you kissed 
me. Will you have me for your servant, your slave, your 
dog ? Only give me a black dress, so that I may wear 
mourning for my lost love — it is all I ask. I will sleep 
on the floor outside your door, so that I shall not be in 
your way. When you want me, whistle for me, like 
this,” — and she whistled shrilly — “ and I will come in- 
stantly. Will you have me ? ” 

In answer’ Isabelle drew Chiquita into her arms, pressed 
her lips to the girl’s forehead warmly, and thankfully ac- 
cepted this soul, that dedicated itself to her. 


CHAPTER XXL 


HYMEN ! OH HYMEN ! ’* 

Isabelle, accustomed to Chiquita’s odd, enigmatical 
ways, had refrained from questioning her — waiting to ask 
for explanations until the poor girl should have become 
more quiet, and able to give them. She could see that 
some terrible catastrophe must have occurred, which had 
left all her nerves quivering, and caused the strong shud- 
ders that passed over her in rapid succession ; but the 
child had rendered her such good service, in her own 
hour of need, that she felt the least she could do was to 
receive and care for the poor little waif tenderly, without 
making any inquiries as to her evidently desperate situa- 
tion. After giving her in charge to her own maid, with 
orders that she should be properly clothed, and made 
thoroughly comfortable in every w’ay, Isabelle resumed 
her reading — or rather tried to resume it ; but her thoughts 
would wander, and after mechanically turning over a few 
pages in a listless way, she laid the book down, beside 
her neglected embroidery, on a little table at her elbow. 
Leaning her head on her hand, and closing her eyes, she 
lapsed into a sorrowful reverie — as, indeed, she had done 
of late many times every day. 

“ Oh ! what has become of de Sigognac ? ” she said 
to herself. “ Where can he be ? and does he still think 
of me, and love me as of old ? Yes, I am sure he does ; 

500 


** HYMEN! OH HYMEN! 


501 


he will be true and faithful to me so long as he lives, 
my brave, devoted knight ! I fear that he has gone 
back to his desolate, old chateau, and, believing that my 
brother is dead, does not dare to approach me. It must 
be that chimerical obstacle that stands in his way — other- 
wise he would surely have tried to see me again — or at 
least have written to me. Perhaps I ought to have sent 
him word that Vallomb reuse had recovered ; yet how 
could I do that ? A modest woman shrinks from even 
seeming to wish to entice her absent lover back to her 
side. How often 1 think that I should be far happier if 
I could have remained as I was — an obscure actress ; 
then I could at least have had the bliss of seeing him 
every day, and of enjoying in peace the sweetness of be- 
ing loved by such a noble, tender heart as his. Despite 
the touching affection and devotion that my princely 
father lavishes upon me, I feel sad and lonely in this 
magnificent chateau. If Vallombreuse were only here 
his society would help to pass the time ; but he is stay- 
ing away so long — and I try in vain to make out what 
he meant when he told me, with such a significant smile, 
as he bade me adieu, that I would be pleased with what 
he was about to do. Sometimes I fancy that I do under- 
stand ; but I dare not indulge myself with such blissful 
thoughts for an instant. If I did, and were mistaken after 
all, the disappointment would be too cruel — too heart- 
rending. But, if it only could be true ! ah ! if it only 
might ! I fear I should go mad with excess of joy.” 

The young Comtesse de Lineuil was still absorbed in 
sad thoughts when a tall lackey appeared, and asked if 
she would receive his lordship, the Duke of Vallombreuse, 
who had just arrived at the chateau and desired to speak 
with her. 


502 


CAPTAm FRACASSE. 


“ Certainly, I shall be delighted to see him,” she said 
in glad surprise ; “ ask him to come to me at once.” 

In a few minutes — which had seemed like hours to 
Isabelle— the young duke made his appearance, with 
beaming eyes, rosy cheeks, light, elastic step, and that air 
of glorious health and vigor which had distinguished him 
before his illness. He threw down his broad felt hat as 
he came in, and, hastening to his sister’s side, took her 
pretty white hands and raised them to his lips. 

‘‘ Dearest Isabelle,” he cried, ‘‘ I am so rejoiced to see 
you again ! I was obliged to stay away from you much 
longer than I wished, for it is a great deprivation to me 
now not to be with you every day — I have gotten so 
thoroughly into the habit of depending upon your sweet 
society. But I have been occupied entirely with your 
interests during my absence, and the hope of pleasing 
my darling sister, and adding to her happiness, has helped 
me to endure the long separation from her.” 

“ The way to please me most, as you ought to have 
known,” Isabelle replied, “ was to stay here at home quiet- 
ly with your father and me, and let us take care of you, 
instead of rushing off so rashly — with your wound scarcely 
healed, or your health fully re-established — on some fool- 
ish errand or other, that you were not willing to acknowl- 
edge.” 

“Was I ever really wounded, or ill?” said Vallom- 
breuse, laughingly. “ Upon my word I had forgotten all 
about it. Never in my life was I in better health than at 
this moment, and my little expedition has done me no 
end of good. But you, my sweet sister, are not looking 
as well as when I left you ; you have grown thin and 
pale. What is the matter ? I fear that you find your 
life here at the chateau very dull. Solitude and seclusion 


HYMEN! OH HYMEN! 


503 


are not at all the thing for a beautiful young woman, I 
know. Reading and embroidery are but melancholy 
pastimes at best, and there must be moments when even 
the gravest, most sedate of maidens grows weary of gaz- 
ing out upon the stagnant waters of the moat, and longs 
to look upon the face of a handsome young knight.” 

“ Oh ! what an unmerciful tease you are, Vallom- 
breuse, and how you do love to torment me with these 
strange fancies of yours. You forget that I have had the 
society of the prince, who is so kind and devoted to me, 
and who abounds in wise and instructive discourse.” 

“ Yes, there is no doubt that our worthy father is a 
most learned and accomplished gentleman, honored and 
admired at home and abroad ; but his pursuits and oc- 
cupations are too grave and weighty for you to share, my 
dear little sister, and I don’t want to see your youth 
passed altogether in such a solemn way. As you would 
not smile upon my friend, the Chevalier de Vidalinc, nor 
condescend to listen to the suit of the Marquis de 
I’Estang, I concluded to go in search of somebody that 
would be more likely to please your fastidious taste, and, 
my dear, I have found him. Such a charming, perfect, 
ideal husband he will make ! I am convinced that you 
will dote upon him.” 

“ It is downright cruelty, Vallombreuse, to persecute 
me as you do, with such unfeeling jests. You know per- 
fectly well that I do not wish to marry ; I cannot give my 
hand without my heart, and my heart is not mine to 
give.” 

“ But you will talk very differently, I do assure you, 
my dear little sister, when you see the husband I have 
chosen for you.” 

“ Never ! never ! ” cried Isabelle, whose voice be- 


504 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


trayed her distress. “ I shall always be faithful to a 
memory that is infinitely dear and precious to me ; for I 
cannot think that you intend to force me to act against 
my will.” 

“ Oh, no ! I am not quite such a tyrant as that ; I 
only ask you not to reject my protege before you have 
seen him.” 

Without waiting for her reply, Vallombreuse abruptly 
left the room, and returned in a moment with de Sigog- 
nac, whose heart was throbbing as if it would burst out 
of his breast. The two young men, hand in hand, 
paused on the threshold, hoping that Isabelle would turn 
her eyes towards them ; but she modestly cast them down 
and kept them fixed upon the floor, while her thoughts flew 
far away, to hover about the beloved being whom she 
little dreamed was so near her. Vallombreuse, seeing 
that she took no notice of them, and had fallen into a 
reverie, advanced towards her, still holding de Sigognac 
by the hand, and made a ceremonious bow, as did also 
his companion ; but while the young duke was smil- 
ing and gay, de Sigognac was deeply agitated, and very 
pale. Brave as a lion when he had to do with men, 
he was timid with women — as are all generous, manly 
hearts. 

Comtesse de Lineuil,” said Vallombreuse, in an em- 
phatic tone of voice, “ permit me to present -to you one of 
my dearest friends, for whom I entreat your favor — the 
Baron de Sigognac.” 

As he pronounced this name, which she at first believed 
to be a jest on her brother’s part, Isabelle started, trem- 
bled violently, and then glanced up timidly at the new- 
comer. When she saw that Vallombreuse had not de- 
ceived her, that it was really he, her own true lover, 


HYMEN f OH HYMEN I 


505 


Standing there before her, she turned deathly pale, and 
had nearly fallen from her chair ; then the quick reac- 
tion came, and a most lovely blush spread itself all over 
her fair face, and even her snowy neck, as far as it could 
be seen. Without a word, she sprang up, and throwing 
her arms round her brother’s neck hid her face on his 
shoulder, whilst two or three convulsive sobs shook her 
slender frame and a little shower of tears fell from her 
eyes. By this instinctive movement, so exquisitely mod- 
est and truly feminine, Isabelle manifested all the ex- 
ceeding delicacy and purity of her nature. Thus were 
her warm thanks to Vallombreuse, whose kindness and 
generosity overcame her, mutely expressed ; and as she 
could not follow the dictates of her heart, and throw 
herself into her lover’s arms, she took refuge in her trans- 
port of joy with her brother, who had restored him to 
her. 

Vallombreuse supported her tenderly for a few 
moments, until he found she was growing calmer, when 
he gently disengaged himself from her clasping arms, and 
drawing down the hands with which she had covered her 
face, to hide its tears and blushes, said, “ My sweet sister, 
do not, I pray you, hide your lovely face from us ; I fear 
my protege will be driven to believe that you entertain 
such an invincible dislike to him you will not even look 
at him.” 

Isabelle raised her drooping head, and turning full 
upon de Sigognac her glorious eyes, shining with a celes- 
tial joy, in spite of the sparkling tear-drops that still hung 
upon their long lashes, held out to him her beautiful 
white hand, which he took reverentially in both his own, 
and bending down pressed fervently to his lips. The 
passionate kiss he imprinted upon it thrilled through 
22 


5o6 


CAPTAIN FKACASSE. 


Isabelle’s whole being, and for a second she turned faint 
and giddy ; but the delicious ecstacy, which is almost 
anguish, of such emotion as hers, is never hurtful, and 
she presently looked up and smiled reassuringly upon 
her anxious lover, as the color returned to her lips and 
cheeks, and the warm light to her eyes. 

“ And now tell me, my sweet little sister,” began Val- 
lombreuse, with an air of triumph, and a mischievous twin- 
kle in his eyes, “ wasn’t I right when I declared that you 
would smile upon the husband I had chosen for you ? — 
and would not be discouraged, though you were so ob- 
stinate ? If I had not been equally so, this dear de Sigog- 
nac would have gone back to his far-away chateau, with- 
out even having seen you ; and that would have been a 
pity, as you must admit.” 

“Yes, I do admit it, my dearest brother, and also that 
you have been adorably kind and good to me. You were 
the only one who, under the circumstances, could bring 
about this reunion, and we both know how to appreciate 
what you have so nobly and generously done for us.” 

“ Yes, indeed,” said de Sigognac warmly; “ your brother 
has given us ample proof of the nobility and generosity of 
his nature — he magnanimously put aside the resentment 
that might seem legitimate, and came to me with his hand 
outstretched, and his heart in it. He revenges himself 
nobly for the harm I was obliged to do him, by imposing 
an eternal gratitude upon me — a light burden, that I 
shall bear joyfully so long as I live.” 

“ Say nothing more about that, my dear baron ! ” Val- 
lombreuse exclaimed. “You would have done as much 
in my place. The differences of two valiant adversaries 
are very apt to end in a warm mutual attachment — we 
were destined from the beginning to become, sooner or 


HYMEN / OH HYMEN/” 507 

later, a devoted pair of friends ; like Theseus and Piri- 
thoiis, Nisus and Euryalus, or Damon and Pythias. But 
never mind about me now, and tell my sister how you 
were thinking of her, and longing for her, in that lonely 
chateau of yours ; where, by the way, I made one of the 
best meals I ever had in my life, though you do pretend 
that starvation is the rule down there.” 

“ And / had a charming supper there too,” said Isa- 
belle with a smile, “which I look back upon with the 
greatest pleasure.” 

“ Nevertheless,” rejoined de Sigognac, “plenty does not 
abound there — but I cannot regret the blessed poverty 
that was the means of first winning me your regard, my 
precious darling ! I am thankful for it — I owe every- 
thing to it.” 

“/ am of opinion,” interrupted Vallombreuse, with a 
significant smile, “ that it would be well for me to go and 
report myself to my father. I want to announce your 
arrival to him myself, de Sigognac ! Not that he will 
need to be specially prepared to receive you, for I am 
bound to confess — what may surprise my little sister here 
— that he knew such a thing might come about, and was 
equally implicated with my graceless self in this little 
conspiracy. But one thing yet — tell me before I go, Isa- 
belle, Comtesse de Lineuil, whether you really do intend 
to accept the Baron de Sigognac as your husband — I 
don’t want to run any risk of making a blunder at this 
stage of the proceedings, you understand, after having con- 
ducted the negotiations successfully up to this point. You 
do definitely and finally accept him, eh ? — that is well — 
and now I will go to the prince. Engaged lovers sometimes 
have matters to discuss that even a brother may not hear, 
so I will leave you together, feeling sure that you will 


5o8 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


both thank me for it in your hearts. Adieu ! — make the 
most of your time, for I shall soon return to conduct de 
Sigognac to the prince.” 

With a laughing nod the young duke picked up his hat 
and went away, leaving the two happy lovers alone to- 
gether, and however agreeable his company may have 
been to them, it must be admitted that his absence was, 
as he had predicted, very welcome to both. The Baron 
de Sigognac eagerly approached Isabelle, and again pos- 
sessed himself of her fair hand, which she did not with- 
draw from his warm, loving clasp. Neither spoke, and for 
a few minutes the fond lovers stood side by side and 
gazed into each other’s eyes. Such silence is more elo- 
quent than any words. At last de Sigognac said softly, 
“ I can scarcely believe even yet in the reality of so much 
bliss. Oh ! what a strange, contradictory destiny is mine. 
You loved me, my darling, because I was poor and un- 
happy — and thus my past misery was the direct Cause of 
my present felicity. A troupe of strolling actors, who 
chanced to seek refuge under my crumbling roof, held in 
reserve for me an angel of purity and goodness — a hos- 
tile encounter has given me a devoted friend — and, most 
wonderful of all, your forcible abduction led to your 
meeting the fond father who had been seeking you so 
many years in vain. And all this because a Thespian 
chariot went astray one stormy night in the Landes.” 

“We were destined for each other — it was all arranged 
for us in heaven above. Twin souls are sure to come to- 
gether at last, if they can only have patience to wait for 
the meeting. I felt instinctively, when we met at the 
Chateau de Sigognac, that you were my fate. At sight of 
you my heart, which had always lain dormant before, and 
never responded to any appeal, thrilled within me, and, 


‘ ‘ H Y MEN ! OH H Y MEN ! 


509 


unasked, yielded to you all its love and allegiance. Your 
very timidity won more for you than the greatest bold- 
ness and assurance could have done, and from the first 
moment of our acquaintance I resolved never to give 
myself to any one but you, or God.” 

“ And yet, cruel, hard-hearted child that you were — 
though so divinely good and lovely — you refused your 
hand to me, when I sued for it on my knees. I know 
well that it was all through generosity, and that of the 
noblest — but, my darling, it was a very cruel generosity 
too.” 

“ I will do my best to atone for it now, my dearest de 
Sigognac, in giving you this hand you wished for„ to- 
gether with my heart, which has long been all your own. 
The Comtesse de Lineuil is not bound to be governed by 
the scruples of Isabelle, the actress. I have had only one 
fear — that your pride might keep you from ever seeking 
me again as I am now. But, even if you had given me 
up, you would never have loved another woman, would 
you, de Sigognac ? You would have been faithful to me 
always, even though you had renounced me — I felt so 
sure of that. Were you thinking of me down there in 
your ancient chateau, when Vallombreuse broke in upon 
your solitude ? ” 

“ My dearest Isabelle, by day I had only one thought 
— of you — and at night, when I kissed the sacred pillow 
on which your lovely head had rested, before laying my 
own down upon it, I besought the god of dreams to show 
me your adored image while I slept.” 

“ And were your prayers sometimes answered ? ” 

^‘Always — not once was I disappointed — and only 
when morning came did you leave me, vanishing through 
‘the ivory gates.’ Oh! how interminable the sad, 


510 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


lonely days seemed to me, and how I wished that I 
could sleep, and dream of you, my angel, all the weary 
time.” 

“ I saw you also in my dreams, many nights in suc- 
cession. Our souls must have, met, de Sigognac, while 
our bodies lay wrapped in slumber. But now, thanks be 
to God, we are reunited — and forever. The prince, my 
father, knew and approved of your being brought here, 
Vallombreuse said, so we can have no opposition to our 
wishes to fear from him. He has spoken to me of you 
several times of late in very flattering terms ; looking at 
me searchingly the while, in a way that greatly agitated 
and troubled me, for I did not know what might be in 
his mind, as Vallombreuse had not then told me that he 
no longer hated you, and I feared that he would always ' 
do so after his double defeat at your hands. But all the 
terrible anxiety is over now, my beloved, and blessed 
peace and happiness lie before us.” 

At this moment the door opened, and the young duke 
announced to de Sigognac that his father was waiting to 
receive him. The baron immediately rose from his seat 
beside Isabelle, bowed low to her, and followed Vallom- 
breuse to the prince’s presence. The aged nobleman, 
dressed entirely in black, and with his breast covered 
with orders, was sitting in a large arm-chair at a table 
heaped up with books and papers, with which he had 
evidently been occupied. His attitude was stately and 
dignified, and the expression of his noble, benevolent 
countenance affable in the extreme. He rose to receive 
de Sigognac, gave him a cordial greeting, and politely 
bade him be seated. 

“My dear father,” said Vallombreuse, “I present to 
you the Baron de Sigognac ; formerly my rival, now my 


HYMEN ! OH HYMEN/'' 511 

friend, and soon to be my brother, if you consent. Any 
improvement that you may see in me is due to his influ- 
ence, and it is no light obligation that I owe to him — 
though he will not admit that there is any. The baron 
comes to ask a favor of you, which I shall rejoice to see 
accorded t6 him.” 

The prince made a gesture of acquiescence, and looked 
reassuringly at de Sigognac, as if inviting him to speak 
fearlessly for himself. Encouraged by the expression of 
his eyes, the baron rose, and, with alow bow, said, in clear, 
distinct tones, “ Prince, I am here to ask of you the hand 
of Madame la Comtesse Isabelle de Lineuil, your daugh- 
ter.” 

The old nobleman looked at him steadily and search- 
ingly for a moment, and then, as if satisfied with his 
scrutiny, answered : “ Baron de Sigognac, I accede to 

your request, and consent to this alliance, with great 
pleasure — so far, that is, as my paternal will accords with 
the wishes of my beloved daughter — whom I should 
never attempt to coerce in anything. The Comtesse de 
Lineuil must be consulted in this matter, and herself de- 
cide the question which is of such vital importance to 
her. I cannot undertake to answer for her — the whims 
and fancies of young ladies are sometimes so odd and 
unexpected.” 

The prince said this with a mischievous smile — as if he 
had not long known that Isabelle loved de Sigognac with 
all her heart, and was pining for him. After a brief 
pause, he added : “ Vallombreuse, go and fetch your sis- 
ter, for, without her, I cannot give a definite answer to 
the Baron de Sigognac.” 

The young duke accordingly went for Isabelle, who 
was greatly alarmed at this summons, and obeyed it in 


512 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


fear and trembling. Despite her brother’s assurances, she 
could not bring herself to believe in the reality of such 
great happiness. Her breast heaved tumultuously, her 
face was very pale, at each step her knees threatened to 
give way under her, and when her father drew her fond- 
ly to his side she was forced to grasp the arm of his chair 
tightly, to save herself from falling. 

“My daughter,” said the prince gravely, “here is a 
gentleman who does you the honor to sue for your 
hand. For my own part, I should hail this union with 
joy — for he is of an ancient and illustrious family, of 
stainless reputation and tried courage, and appears to me 
to possess every qualification that heart could desire. I 
am perfectly satisfied with him — but has he succeeded in 
pleasing you, my child ? Young heads do not always 
agree with gray ones. Examine your own heart care- 
fully, and tell me if you are willing to accept the Baron 
de Sigognac as your husband. Take plenty of time to 
consider — you shall not be hurried, my dear child, in so 
grave a matter as this.” 

The prince’s kindly, cordial smile gave evidence that 
he was in a playful mood, and Isabelle, plucking up 
courage, threw her arms round her father’s neck, and 
said in the softest tones, “ There is no need for me to 
consider or hesitate, my dear lord and father ! Since 
the Baron de Sigognac is so happy as to please you, I 
confess, freely and frankly, that I have loved him ever 
since we first met, and have never wished for any other 
alliance. To obey you in this will be my highest happi- 
ness.” 

“ And now clasp hands, my children, and exchange 
the kiss of betrothal,” cried the Duke of Vallombreuse 
gayly. “ Verily, the romance ends more happily than 


‘ ‘ H YMEN ! OH H YMEN ! ” 


513 


could have been expected after such a stormy beginning. 
And now the next question is, when shall the wedding 
be?” 

“ It will take a little time to make due preparation,” 
said the prince. “ So many people must be set to work, 
in order that the marriage of my only daughter may be 
worthily celebrated. Meanwhile, Isabelle, here is your 
dowry, the deed of the estate of Lineuil — from which you 
derive your title, and which yields you an income of 
fifty thousand crowns per annum — together with rent- 
rolls, and all the various documents appertaining thereto,” 
and he handed a formidable roll of papers to her. “ As 
to you, my dear de Sigognac, I have here for you a royal 
ordinance, which constitutes you governor of a province ; 
and no one, I venture to say, could be more worthy of 
this distinguished honor than yourself.” 

Vallombreuse, who had gone out of the room while 
his father was speaking, now made his appearance, fol- 
lowed by a servant carrying a box covered with crimson 
velvet. He took it from the lackey at the door, and ad- 
vancing, placed it upon the table in front of Isabelle. 

“ My dear little sister,” said he, “ will you accept this 
from me^as a wedding gift ? ” 

On the cover was inscribed “ For Isabelle,” in golden 
letters, and it contained the very casket which the Duke 
of -Vallombreuse had offered at Poitiers to the young ac- 
tress, and which she had so indignantly refused to receive, 
or even look at. 

“ You will accept it this time ? ” he pleaded, with a 
radiant smile ; “ and honor these diamonds of finest 
water, and these pearls of richest lustre, by wearing 
them, for my sake. They are not more pure and beauti- 
ful than yourself.” 

22* 


514 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


Isabelle smilingly took up a magnificent necklace and 
clasped it round her fair neck, to show that she harbored 
no resentment ; then put the exquisite bracelets on her 
round, white arms, and decked herself with the vari- 
ous superb ornaments that the beautiful casket con- 
tained. 

And now we have only to add, that a week later Isa- 
belle and de Sigognac were united in marriage in the 
chapel at Vallombreuse, which was brilliantly lighted, 
and filled with fragrance from the profusion of flowers 
that converted it into a very bower. The music was 
heavenly, the fair bride adorably beautiful, with her long 
white veil floating about her, and the Baron de Sigognac 
radiant with happiness. The Marquis de Bruyeres was 
one of his witnesses, and a most brilliant and aristocratic 
assemblage “ assisted ” at this notable wedding in high 
life. No one, who had not been previously informed of 
it, could ever have suspected that the lovely bride — at 
once so noble and modest, so dignified and graceful, so 
gentle and refined, yet with as lofty a bearing as a prin- 
cess of the blood royal — had only a short time before 
been one of a band of strolling players, nightly fulfilling 
her duties as an actress. Whilst de Sigognac, governor 
of a province, captain of mousquetaires, superbly dressed, 
dignified, stately and affable, the very beau-ideal of a 
distinguished young nobleman, had nothing about him 
to recall the poor, shabby, disconsolate youth, almost 
starving in his dreary, half-ruined chateau, whose misery 
was described at the beginning of this tale. 

After a splendid collation, graced by the presence of 
vhe bride and groom, the happy pair vanished ; but we 
will not attempt to follow them, or intrude upon their 
privacy — turning away at the very threshold of the nup- 


HYMEN! OH HYMEN! 


515 


tial chamber, singing, in low tones, after the fashion of 
the ancients, “ Hymen ! oh Hymen ! ” 

The mysteries of such sacred happiness as theirs 
should be respected ; and besides, sweet, modest Isa- 
belle would have died of shame if so much as a single 
one of the pins that held her bodice were indiscreetly 
drawn out. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


THE CASTLE OF HAPPINESS. 

EPILOGUE. 

It will be readily believed that our sweet Isabelle had 
not forgotten, in her exceeding happiness as Madame la 
Baronne de Sigognac, her former companions of Herode’s 
troupe. As she could not invite them to her wedding — 
because they would have been so much out of place 
there — she had, in commemoration of that auspicious 
occasion, sent handsome and appropriate gifts to them 
all ; offered with a grace so charming that it redoubled 
their value. So long as the company remained in 
Paris, she went often to see them play ; applauding her 
old friends heartily, and judiciously as well, knowing just 
where the applause should be given. The young baronne 
did not attempt to conceal the fact that she had formerly 
been an actress herself — not parading it, but referring to 
it quietly, if necessary, as a matter of course ; an excellent 
method to disarm ill-natured tongues, which would surely 
have wagged vigorously had any mystery been made 
about it. In addition, her illustrious birth and exalted 
position imposed silence upon those around her, and her 
sweet dignity and modesty had soon won all hearts — even 
those of her own sex — until it was universally conceded 
that there was not a greater or truer lady in court circles 
than the beautiful young Baronne de Sigognac. 



THE CASTLE OF HAPPINESS. 


517 


history, praised her highly for her virtuous conduct, and 
evinced great interest in de Sigognac ; whom he heartily 
commended for his respectful, honorable gallantry, under 
circumstances that, according to general' opinion, would 
authorize all manner of license. His deference to de- 
fenceless virtue peculiarly pleased the chaste, reserved 
monarch, who had no sympathy with, or indulgence for 
the wild, unbridled excesses of the licentious youth of 
his capital and court. As to Vallombreuse, he had en- 
tirely changed and amended his way of life, and seemed 
to find unfailing pleasure and satisfaction, as well as 
benefit, in the companionship of his new friend and 
brother, to whom he was devoted, and who fully recipro- 
cated his warm affection ; while the prince, his father, 
joyfully dwelt in the bosom of his reunited family, and 
found in it the happiness he had vainly sought before. 
The young husband and wife led a charming life, more 
and more in love with and devoted to each other, and 
never experiencing that satiety of bliss which is ruinous to 
the most perfect happiness. Although Isabelle had no con- 
cealments from her husband, and shared even her inmost 
thoughts with him, yet for a time she seemed very much 
occupied with some mysterious business — apparently ex- 
clusively her own. She had secret conferences with her 
steward, with an architect, and also with certain sculptors 
'and painters — all without de Sigognac’s knowledge, and 
by the connivance of Vallombreuse, who seemed to be 
her confidant, aider and abettor. 

One fine morning, several months after their marriage, 
Isabelle said to de Sigognac, as if a sudden thought had 
struck her, “ My dear lord, do you never think of your 
poor, deserted, old chateau ? and have you no desire to 
return to the birthplace of our love ? ” 


5i8 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


“ I am not so unfeeling as that, my darling, and I have 
thought of it longingly many times of late. But I did 
not like to propose the journey to you without -being sure 
that it would please you. I did not like to tear you away 
from the delights of the court — of which you are the 
chief ornament — and take you to that poor, old, half- 
ruined mansion, the haunt of rats and owls, where I 
could not hope to make you even comfortable, yet, 
which I prefer, miserable as it is, to the most luxurious 
palaces ; for it was the home of my ancestors, and the 
place where I first saw you, my heart’s delight ! — spot 
ever sacred and dear to me, upon which I should like to 
erect an altar.” 

“ And I,” rejoined Isabelle, “ often wonder whether the 
eglantine in the garden still blooms, as it did for me.” 

“ It does,” said de Sigognac, “ I am sure of it — hav- 
ing once been blessed by your touch, it must be always 
blooming — even though there be none to see.” 

“ Ah ! my lord, unlike husbands in general, you are 
more gallant after marriage than before,” Isabelle said, 
laughingly, yet deeply touched by his tender words, 
“ and you pay your wife compliments as if she were your 
lady-love. And now, since I have ascertained that your 
wishes accord with my whim, will it please your lord- 
ship to set out for the Chateau de Sigognac this week ? 
The weather is fine. The great heat of summer is over, 
and we can really enjoy the journey. Vallomb reuse will 
go with us, and I shall take Chiquita. She will be glad 
to see her own country again.” 

The needful preparations were soon made, and the 
travelling party set off in high spirits. The journey was 
rapid and delightful. Relays of horses had been sent 
on in advance by Vallomb reuse, so that in a few days 


THE CASTLE OF HAPPINESS. 


519 


they reached the point where the road leading to the 
Chateau de Sigognac branched off from the great post- 
road. It was about two o’clock of .a bright, w'arm after- 
noon when the carriage turned off the highway, and as 
they got, at the same moment, their first view of the cha- 
teau, de Sigognac could not believe the testimony of his 
own eyes — he was bewildered, dazzled, overwhelmed— 
he no longer recognized the familiar details which had 
been so deeply impressed upon his memory. All was 
changed, as if by magic. The road, smooth, free from 
grass and weeds, and freshly gravelled, had no more ruts ; 
the hedges, neatly trimmed and properly tended, no 
longer reached out long, straggling arms to catch the 
rare passer-by ; the tall trees on either side had been 
carefully pruned, so that their branches met in an arch 
overhead, and framed in a most astonishing picture. In- 
stead of the dreary ruin, slowly crumbling into dust, a 
fine new chateau rose before them — resembling the old 
one. as a son resembles his father. It was an exact re- 
production — nothing had been changed, only renewed — 
it was simply the ancient mansion rejuvenated. The 
walls were smooth and unbroken, the lofty towers intact, 
rising proudly at the four angles of the building, with 
their freshly-gilded weathercocks gleaming in the sun- 
light. A handsome new roof, tastefully ornamented with 
a pretty design in different colored slates, had replaced 
the broken, weather-stained tiles, through which the rain 
used to find its way down into the frescoed hall, and the 
long suite of deserted rooms. Every window had bright 
large panes of clear glass shining in its casement, and a 
magnificent great door, turning smoothly and noiselessly 
upon its huge hinges, had superseded the old, worm- 
eaten one, that used to groan and creak piteously when 


520 


CAPTAIN FKACASSE. 


Opened ever so little. Above it shone the de Sigognac 
arms — three golden storks upon an azure field, with this 
noble motto--- entirely obliterated of old — “_Alta pe - 
.tunt.” 

For a few moments de Sigognac gazed at it all in si- 
lence, overcome by astonishment and emotion. Then he 
suddenly turned to Isabelle, with joyful surprise written 
in every line of his speaking countenance, and seizing 
her hands passionately, and holding them firmly clasped 
in his, said : “ It is to you, my kind, generous fairy, that I 
owe this marvellous transformation of my poor, dilapi- 
dated, old chateau. You have touched it with your 
wand and restored its ancient splendor, majesty and 
youth. I cannot tell you how enchanted, how gratified 
I am by this wonderful surprise. It is unspeakably 
charming and delightful, like everything that emanates 
from my good angel. Without a word or hint from me, 
you have divined, and carried out, the secret and most 
earnest wish of my heart.” 

“ You must also thank a certain sorcerer, who has 
greatly aided me in all this,” said Isabelle softly, touched 
by her husband’s emotion and delight, and pointing to 
Vallomb reuse, who was sitting opposite to her. The two 
young men clasped hands for a moment, and smiled at 
each other in friendly fashion. There was a perfect un- 
derstanding between these kindred spirits now, and no 
words were needed on either side. 

By this time the carriage had reached the chateau, 
where Pierre, in a fine new livery — and a tremor of de- 
light — was waiting to receive them. After an affectionate, 
as well as respectful, greeting from the faithful old ser- 
vant, they entered the grand portico, which had been, like 
all the rest, admirably restored, and, alighting from the 


THE CASTLE OF HAPPINESS. 521 

carriage, paused a moment to admire its magnificent pro- 
portions ere they passed on into the frescoed hall, where 
eight or ten tall lackeys were drawn up in line, and bowed 
profoundly to their new master and mistress. Skilful 
artists had retouched the ancient frescoes, and made 
them glow with all their original brilliant tints. The co- 
lossal figures of Hercules were still supporting the heavy 
cornice, and the busts of the Roman emperors looked 
out majestically from their niches. Higher up, the vine 
climbing on its trellis was as luxuriant as in the olden 
time, and there were no unsightly stains on the bright 
blue sky of the vaulted roof to mar its beauty. A like 
metamorphosis had been worked everywhere — the worm- 
eaten woodwork had been renewed, the uneven floors 
relaid, the tarnished gilding restored to its original splen- 
dor — and the new furniture throughout had been made 
exactly like the old that it replaced. The fine old 
tapestry in de Sigognac’s own room had been minutely 
copied, down to the smallest detail, and the hangings of 
the bed were of green and white brocade, in precisely 
the same delicate tint and graceful pattern as the 
old. 

Isabelle, with her innate delicacy and perfect taste, had 
not aimed at producing a sensation, by any overwhelm- 
ing magnificence or dazzling splendor in renovating the 
intrinsically fine old Chateau de Sigognac, but had simply 
wished to gratify and delight the heart of her husband, 
so tenderly loved, in giving back to him the impressions 
and surroundings of his childhood and youth, robbed of 
their misery and sadness. All was bright and gay now 
in this lordly mansion, erst so dreary and melancholy ; 
even the sombre old family portraits, cleansed, retouched 
and revarnished by skilful hands, smiled down upon 


522 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


them, as if pleased with the new order of things ; espe- 
cially their own handsome, richly gilt frames. 

After looking through the interior of the chateau, de Si- 
gognac and Isabelle went out into the court, where no 
weeds or nettles were to be seen, no grass growing up be- 
tween the paving stones, no heaps of rubbish in the corners, 
and through the clear glass panes of the numerous win- 
dows looking into it were visible the folds of the rich 
curtains in the chambers that were formerly the favorite 
haunt of owls and bats. They went on down into the 
garden, by a noble flight of broad stone steps, no longer 
tottering and moss-grown, and turned first to seek the 
wild eglantine which had offered its delicate little rose to 
the young actress, on the memorable morning when the 
baron had decided to go forth from his ruined castle for 
love of her. It had another dainty blossom ready for 
her now, which Isabelle received from de Sigognac’s 
hand, with tears, that told of a happiness too deep for 
words, welling up into her eyes, and exchanged with her 
adored and adoring husband a long, fond look, that seemed 
to give to each a glimpse of heaven. 

The gardeners had been busy too, and had converted 
the neglected wilderness we made acquaintance with long 
ago into a veritable little paradise. At the end of the 
well-ordered and exquisitely arranged garden, Pomona 
still stood in her cool grotto, restored to all the beauty of 
her youth, while a stream of pure, sparkling water poured 
from the lion’s mouth, and fell with a musical murmur 
into the marble basin. Even in their best and most 
glorious days the garden and the chateau had never 
known greater beauty and luxury than now. The baron, 
ever more and more astonished and enchanted, as he 
rambled slowly through it all, like one in a delicious 


THE CASTLE OF HAPPINESS. 523 

dream, kept Isabelle’s arm pressed tenderly to his heart, 
and was not ashamed to let her see the tears that at last 
he could no longer restrain, and which came from a very 
full heart. 

“Now,” said Isabelle, “that we have seen everything 
here, we must go and inspect the different pieces of 
property we have been able to buy back, so as to recon- 
struct, as nearly as possible, the ancient barony of Sigog- 
nac. I will leave you for a few moments, to go and put 
on my riding habit ; I shall not be long, for I learned to 
make changes of that sort very rapidly in my old pro- 
fession, you know. Will you, meantime, go and select 
our horses, and order that they should be made ready ? ” 

Vallombreuse accompanied de Sigognac to the stables, 
where they found ten splendid horses contentedly 
munching their oats in their oaken stalls. Everything 
was in perfect order, but ere the baron had time to 
admire and praise, as he wished to do, a loud whinnying 
that was almost deafening suddenly burst forth, as good 
old Bayard peremptorily claimed his attention. Isabelle 
had long ago sent orders to the chateau that the super- 
annuated pony should always have the best place in the 
stable, and be tenderly cared for. His manger was full 
of ground oats, which he seenjed to be enjoying with 
great gusto, and he evidently approved highly of the 
new regime. In his stall Miraut lay sleeping, but the 
sound of his master’s voice aroused him, and he joyfully 
jumped up and came to lick his hand, and claim the ac- 
customed caress. As to Beelzebub, though he had not 
yet made his appearance, it must not be attributed to a 
want of affection on his part, but rather to an excess of 
timidity. The poor old cat had been so unsettled and 
alarmed at the invasion of the quiet chateau by an army of 


524 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


noisy workmen, and all the confusion and changes that had 
followed, that he had fled from his usual haunts, and taken 
up his abode in a remote attic ; where he lay in conceal- 
ment, impatiently waiting for darkness to come, so that he 
might venture out to pay his respects to his beloved master. 

The baron, after petting Bayard and Miraut until they 
were in ecstacies of delight, chose from among the horses 
a beautiful, spirited chestnut for himself, the duke se- 
lected a Spanish jennet, with proudly arched neck and 
flowing mane, which was worthy to carry an Infanta, 
and an exquisite white palfrey, whose skin shone like 
satin, was brought out for the baronne. In a few mo- 
ments Isabelle came down, attired in a superb riding 
habit, which consisted of a dark blue velvet basque, 
richly braided with silver, over a long, ample skirt of 
silver-gray satin, and her broad hat of white felt, like a 
cavalier’s, was trimmed with a floating, dark blue feather. 
Her beautiful hair was confined in the most coquettish 
little blue and silver net, and as she came forward, 
radiant with smiles, she was a vision of loveliness, that 
drew forth fervent exclamations of delight from her two 
devoted and adoring knights. The Baronne de Sigog- 
nac certainly was enchantingly beautiful in her rich 
equestrian costume, which displayed the perfection of 
her slender, well-rounded figure to the greatest advan- 
tage, and there was a high-bred, dainty look about her 
which bore silent witness to her illustrious origin. She 
was still the sweet, modest Isabelle of old, but she was 
also the daughter of a mighty prince, the sister of a 
proud young duke, and the honored wife of a valiant 
gentleman, whose race had been noble since before the 
crusades. Vallombreuse, remarking it, could not forbear 
to say : 


THE CASTLE OF HAPPINESS. 525 

“ My dearest sister, how magnificent you look to-day ! 
Hippolyte, queen of the Amazons, was never more su- 
perb, or more triumphantly beautiful, than you are in 
this most becoming costume.” 

Isabelle smiled in reply, as she put her pretty little 
foot into de Sigognac’s hand, and sprang lightly into, her 
saddle. Her husband and brother mounted also, and the 
little cavalcade set forth in high glee, making the vaulted 
portico ring with their merry laughter as they rode 
through it. Just in front of the chateau they met the 
Marquis de Bruyeres, and several other gentlemen of the 
neighborhood, coming to pay their respects. They wished 
to go back into the chateau and receive their guests 
properly, saying that they could ride out at any time, 
but the visitors would not listen to such a thing, and 
turning their horses’ heads proposed to ride with them. 
The party, increased by six or eight cavaliers in gala 
dress — for the provincial lordlings had made themselves 
as fine as possible to do honor to their new neighbors — 
was really very imposing ; a cortege worthy of a princess. 
They rode on between broad green fields, through woods 
and groves and highly cultivated farms, all of which had 
now been restored to the estate they had originally be- 
longed to ; and the grateful, adoring glances that the 
Baron de Sigognac found opportunity to bestow upon 
his lovely baronne^ made her heart beat high with a hap- 
piness almost too perfect for this weary world of trials 
and sorrows. 

As they were riding through a little pine wood, near 
the boundary line of the estate, the barking of hounds 
was heard, and presently the party met the beautiful 
Yolande de Foix, followed by her old uncle, and one or 
two attendant cavaliers. The road was very narrow, and 


526 


CAPTAIN FPACASSE. 


there was scarcely room to pass, though each party en- 
deavored to make way for the other. Yolande’s horse 
was prancing about restively, and the skirt of her long rid- 
ing-habit brushed Isabelle’s as she passed her. She was 
furiously angry, and sorely tempted to address some 
cutting words to the “ Bohemienne ” she had once so 
cruelly insulted ; but Isabelle, who had a soul above 
such petty malice, and had long ago forgiven Yolande 
for her unprovoked insolence, felt how much her own 
triumph must wound the other’s proud spirit, and with 
perfect dignity and grace bowed to Mademoiselle de Foix, 
who could not do less than respond by a slight inclina- 
tion of her haughty head, though her heart was filled 
with rage, and she had much ado to control herself. 
The Baron de Sigognac, with a quiet, unembarrassed air, 
had bowed respectfully to the fair huntress, who looked 
eagerly, but in vain, into the eyes of her former adorer 
for a spark of the old flame that used to blaze up in them 
at sight of her. Angry and disappointed, she gave her 
horse a sharp cut with the whip, and swept away at a 
gallop. 

“Now, by Venus and all the Loves,” said Vallombreuse 
to the Marquis de Bruyeres, beside whom he was riding, 
that girl is a beauty, but she looked deucedly savage 
and cross. How she did glare at my sister, eh ! as if 
she wanted to stab her.” 

“ When one has long been the acknowledged queen of 
a neighborhood,” the Marquis replied, “ it is not pleasant 
to be dethroned, you know, and every one must admit that 
Madame la Baronne de Sigognac bears off the palm.” 

The gay cavalcade, after a long ride, returned to the 
chateau, to find a sumptuous repast awaiting them in the 
magnificent banqueting hall, where the poor young baron 


THE CASTLE OF HAPPINESS. 


527 


had once supped with the wandering comedians, upon 
their own provisions. What a transformation had been 
effected ! now a superb service of silver, bearing the 
family arms, shone upon the fine damask that covered 
the table, in which also the three storks were apparent, 
while beautiful porcelain and dainty glass, lovely flowers 
and luscious fruits contributed to the attractions of the 
bountifully furnished board, Isabelle sat in the same 
place she had occupied on the eventful night that 
had changed the destiny of the young lord of the 
chateau, and she could not but think of, and live over, 
that widely different occasion, as did also the baron, and 
the married lovers exchanged furtive smiles and glances, 
in which tender memories and bright hopes were happily 
mingled. 

Near one of the tall buffets stood a large, fine-looking 
man with a thick black beard, dressed in black velvet, 
and wearing a massive chain of silver round his neck, 
who kept a watchful eye upon the numerous lackeys 
waiting on the guests, and from time to time gave an 
order, with a most majestic air. Presiding over another 
buffet, on which were neatly arranged numerous wine- 
bottles of different forms and dimensions, was another 
elderly man, of short, corpulent figure, and with a jolly 
red face, who stepped about actively and lightly, despite 
his age and weight, dispensing the wine to the servants 
as it was needed. At first de Sigognac did not notice 
them, but chancing to glance in their direction, was as- 
tonished to recognize in the first the tragic Herode, and 
in the second the grotesque Blazius. Isabelle, seeing that 
her husband had become aware of their presence, whis- 
pered to him, that in order to provide for the old age of 
those two devoted and faithful friends she had thought 


528 


CAPTAIN PPACASSB. 


it well to give them superior positions in their house- 
hold ; in which they would have only easy duties to 
perform, as they had to direct others in their work, not 
to do any themselves ; and the baron heartily approved 
and commended what his sweet young wife, ever con- 
siderate for others, had been pleased to do. * 

Course succeeded to course, and bottle to bottle — 
there was much laughing and talking around the con- 
vivial board, and the host was exerting himself to do 
honor to the festive occasion, when he felt a head laid 
on his knee, and a tattoo — vigorously played by a pair of 
paws on his leg — that was well known to him of old. 
Miraut and Beelzebub, who had slipped into the room, 
and under the table, without being detected, thus an- 
nounced their presence to their indulgent master. He 
did not repulse them, but managed, without attracting 
notice, to give them a share of everything on his plate, 
and was especially amused at the almost insatiable vo- 
racity of the old black cat — who had evidently been fast- 
ing in his hiding-place in the attic. He actually seemed 
to enjoy, like an epicure, the rich and dainty viands that 
had replaced the frugal fare of long ago, and ate so much 
that when the meal was over he could scarcely stand, 
and made his way with difficulty into his master’s bed- 
chamber, where he curled himself up in a luxurious 
arm-chair and settled down comfortably for the night. 

Vallombreuse kept pace with the Marquis de Bruyeres, 
and the other guests, in disposing of the choice wines, 
that did credit to the pedant’s selection ; but de Sigognac, 
who had not lost his temperate habits, only touched his 
lips to the edge of his wine-glass, and made a pretence of 
keeping them company. Isabelle, under pretext of 
fatigue, had withdrawn when the dessert was placed upon 


THE CASTLE OF HAPPINESS. 529 

the table. She really was very tired, and' sent at once 
for Chiquita, now promoted to the dignity of first lady’s 
maid, to come and perform her nightly duties. The 
wild, untutored child had — under Isabelle’s judicious, 
tender and careful training — developed into a quiet, in- 
dustrious and very beautiful young girl. She still wore 
mourning for Agostino, and around her neck was the 
famous string of pearl beads — it was a sacred treasure to 
Chiquita, and she was never seen without it. She at- 
tended to her duties quickly and deftly — evidently 
taking great delight in waiting upon the mistress she 
adored — and kissed her hand passionately, as she never 
failed to do, when all was finished and she bade her 
good-night. 

When, an hour later, de Sigognac entered the room in 
which he had spent so many weary, lonely nights — listening 
to the wind as it shrieked and moaned round the outside 
of the desolate chateau, and wailed along the corridors — 
feeling that life was a hard and bitter thing, and fancying 
that it would never bring anything but trials and misery to 
him — he saw, by the subdued light from the shaded 
lamp, the face to him most beautiful in all the world 
smiling lovingly to greet him from under the green and 
white silken curtains that hung.round his own bed, where 
it lay resting upon the pillow he had so often kissed, and 
moistened with his tears. His eyes were moist now — but 
from excess of happiness, not sorrow — as he saw before 
liim the blessed, blissful realization of his vision. 

Towards morning, Beelzebub, who had been excessively 
uneasy and restless all night, managed, with great diffi- 
culty, to clamber up on the bed, where he rubbed his 
nose against his master’s hand — trying at the same time 
to purr in the old way, but failing lamentably. The 

23 


530 


CAPTAIN FRACASSE. 


baron woke instantly, and saw poor Beelzebub looking at 
him appealingly, with his great green eyes unnaturally di- 
lated, and momentarily growing dim ; he was trembling 
violently, and as his master’s kind hand was stretched 
out to stroke his head, fell over on his side, and with one 
half-stifled cry, one convulsive shudder, breathed his 
last. 

“ Poor Beelzebub ! ” softly said Isabelle, who had been 
roused from her sweet slumber by his dying groan, “ he 
has lived through all the misery of the old time, but will 
not be here to share and enjoy the prosperity of the new.” 

Beelzebub, it must be confessed, fell a victim to his 
own intemperance — a severe fit of indigestion, consequent 
upon the enormous supper he had eaten, was the cause 
of his death — his long-famished stomach was not accus- 
tomed to, nor proof against, such excesses. This death, 
even though it was only that of a dumb beast, touched 
de Sigognac deeply ; for poor Beelzebub had been his 
faithful companion, night and day, through many long, 
weary years of sadness and poverty, and had always 
shown the warmest, most devoted affection for him. He 
carefully wrapped the body in a piece of fine, soft cloth, 
and waited, until evening should come, to bury it himself ; 
when he would be safe from observation and possible 
ridicule. Accordingly, after nightfall, he took a spade, a 
lantern, and poor Beelzebub’s body, which was stiff and 
stark by that time, and went down into the garden, where 
he set to work to dig the grave, under the sacred eglan- 
tine, in what seemed to him like hallowed ground. He 
wanted to make it deep enough to insure its not being 
disturbed by any roaming beast of prey, and worked 
away diligently, until his spade struck sharply against 
some hard substance, that he at first thought must be a 










'■*W 




« wo 


♦ .1 


(T 


r“ 






.' •/' 










w>> 


j’ i 




m 


4 


r- 


r 


¥ 


ie 


» 1 


4 




j 


7 « 




•/•'X 


* .u 


r:- 


1 . •;(V-: 


• •* 'i 


•■ •• 


^•, w. .'- 


«9 


1 :'- 0 >S"- 






■:-i} 




Iff *( 


im, 


ilinl , .^Mfti 




> '• 


hi 


*8 


A I 








i .. 




44 ^ 




( V 


> 








W‘ - >■>»“ 


t .Vi 


^y 


^ ' .. IMF 










*y 'i‘>i- 






.:i 


~M. 


4» A< « 

I •/« l« 

♦'j'. ' ■“. " 

~ * ■ 








k» 






V' 






"T ♦' 


t » 




W-» 


I 


/ .it 


f •" ^ 


H 




4 .T; 


J M 










ji i 


,ii.1 




If 


Al 




ji* 




ii; 






•i 






H 


iJ.’V 


;> . •■! 


•■* '1 > » 




'i¥.r 




rVtf 


•M.l 




fif ^ 


•/ 




‘V/.K. 






'ri 




f 4 


■•■' i* 

‘ V,k# 


^i’'iT-. 




I. •! 






< 


.•V, 




\ <s 


^ ■'* 


'V;%' 


[®* 


r f 




t -...r- . n%; 


m 


>» 




■ifc 




<r 


>1* 




j k.rtfcti 






•/> Jt- 




> 






:< 


I • * 5 ^ ^ ■, 




V.,-* 


\[X- 


iX 


^ I, 


V>‘». 


-j 




.Mfl u' 


a 




•q 








^11 


X 






; r 




4 », 




jiii 


'S^i 


. I ' 


»v 




d 1 1 iW 





r\ * 


=' x® '; “* 
•>! , '^, ^ 

o > C ‘ ■ * ^0 ci* ^ 

ov* V. — ^0’ ^ 

^ ^ * 0 ^ \' . s '' V / >> j.0^ 



S 

^ * '^'’ '^' ' •.v'^ '% °- -K>.- 

^ tt <S ^ A ^ r^ * ^ -A 

\ ^ ° ‘X^^ C o ^ ' " " ' ^ ^ ^ Ov\^ 0 N C ; ^ 

o j-h » %.^-ws ^ cP -? -J) --X 4^ - 



\0 ^ 

V 4 0 ^ 81 ''^ 4 ^ 3 H 0 ^ ^0 

^ > \’ k^joJ ^ C^ Jy ^ 

' 4 <. s '' 0 , X ■*• A <* ■% ^ 



oV 






I r 


'_ • -f ^ l' 

, , ‘ N o ’ *0 *•- » 




f %? 
O > 




w C ' '"'■ *0 

^ Cv < 




“4^ !-'% " * * ' (?K'' ’2^- ''°^ ” * ' c 0 " « . ■* ‘ ' '■ 

,\ N* .^.S^^s . •'^ -*' »«r- *1^^ li^ ^ a\ 





- XV.W,- ^ ^ 

^ .0 M 0 ^ 


"-■fe.- ' ’ - v^; V . » , ” \/; s . . , : V * ■' ;/ . , . . . 

A^ ?- <? c^ <“ ‘<. ^/tn^ ' yt ^ x'A ^ 

:^iK- ^ 



v-v 


.V ° 

,s?> ^ 



<p % 






^ S^ ^0 g ^ •'o , X , 0 0- .^<p " 



X'" ^ N 0 ' 

- \’ ^4. V- 

”’ '^p < 4 ^ 



c 


^ 0 ^ « ^ o y ® < 7 \'^ 

n'i *^. "4 ° ^ '■ 








